FBTI^ 


• 


UNTV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


I  BEGAN  SINKING  AS  LOW  AS  MY  WAIST. 
Roy  BlakeUy.  Frontispiece  (Page  35) 


ROY  BLAKELEY 

HIS  STORY 


the  true  narrative  of  his  adventures  and 
jhose  of  his  troop  on  land  and  sea  and  in  the  mud — 
particularly  in  the  mud.  Taken  from  the  Troop 
Book  of  the  ist  Bridgeboro  Troop  B.  S.  A.  and 
arranged  by  himself  with  the  assistance  of  Pee-wee 
Harris  and 


PERCY  KEESE  FT 
AUTHOR  OF 

TOM  SLADE,  BOY  SCOUT,  ..      AT 

TEMPLE  CAMP, 


ILLUSTRATED      * 

HOWARD  L,  F  '.STINGS 


PUBLISHED  WITH   THE  APPROVAL  OF 

THE  BOY  SCOUTS  OF  AMERICA 


GROSSET     &     DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  ::          NEW    YORK 

Made  in  the  United  States  of  America 


COPYRIGHT,  1920,  BY 
GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACK 

I.  TROUBLES  OF  MY  OWN — THE  BIG 

CONCLAVE           .......  i 

II.    SWATTING  THE  SPY 8 

III.  SWATTING  THE  SPY — CONTINUED    .  16 

IV.  THE    PLOT    GROWS    THINNER — OR 

ELSE  THICKER   ......  24 

V.  LOST       .........  31 

VI.  THE  TIGHT  PLACE      .....  39 

VII.  WEETONKA,  THE  TERRIBLE  CHIEF    .  45 

VIII.  RESOPEKITWAFTENLY        .     .     .     .  51 

IX.  THE  LOST  LETTER      .....  62 

X.  THE  RAVENS    .     .     ...     ...  70 

XI.     LOST :.•;.:•:     •:     -  75 

XII.  ARTIE'S  ADVENTURE    .     .     .     .     .  81 

XIII.  TRACKING   ....     .:     .     .     .  86 

XIV.  THE  SLACKER        .....     .  93 

XV.  DURING  NOON  HOUR  .....  99 

XVI.  NOBLE  RAGS     .....     .     .  105 

XVII.    THE  Two  CROSSES 113 

XVIII.  SCOUT  LAW  NUMBER  THREE     .     .  119 

XIX.  THE  END  OF  THE  MEETING  .     .     .  129 


2130381 


11 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XX.  MOSTLY  ABOUT  SKINNY  v     .     .  .  134 
XXI.  SOMETHING  MISSING  .....  145 
XXII.  SHOWS  You  WHERE  I  Do  THE  TALK 
ING      .......;     ..     >:  :«  152 

XXIII.  IN  THE  WOODS     >•    .     .    >     .  >:  156 

XXIV.  TREASURE  ISLAND  .     .    >:     .     .  .  165 
XXV.  THE  SHORT  Cur    .     ..     .:     .;     .:  >  169 

XXVI.  IN  MY  OWN  CAMP    ,:     .    >    >j  >.  173 

XXVII.  THE  GENTLE  BREEZE  .     >:    >.    ..:  «  178 

XXVIII.  JOLLYING  PEE-WEE     .     .     >:    ...  x  185 

XXIX.  JIMMY,  THE  BRIDGE-TENDER      .  .  193 

XXX.  GONE .  197 

XXXI.  THE  CAPTAIN'S  ORDERS   .     ...     .  ..  203 

XXXII.  I  MAKE  A  DANDY  FRIEND     .     .  .  206 

XXXIII.  So  LONG — SEE  You  LATER   .     i.;  ...  214 


ROY  BLAKELEY 

CHAPTER  I 

TROUBLES  OF  MY  OWN — THE  BIG  CONCLAVE 

WELL,  here  I  am  at  last,  ready  to  tell  you  the 
adventures  of  our  young  lives.  Right  away  I  have 
trouble  with  Pee-wee  Harris.  He's  about  as  easy 
to  keep  down  as  a  balloon  full  of  gas.  We  call 
him  the  young  dirigible  because  he's  always  going 
up  in  the  air.  Even  at  the  start  he  must  stick  in 
his  chapter  heading  about  a  conclave. 

Hanged  if  I  know  what  a  conclave  is.  It's  some 
kind  of  a  meeting  I  guess.  He  said  it  was  some 
thing  like  a  peace  conference,  but  believe  me,  the 
meeting  I'm  going  to  tell  you  about  wasn't  much 
like  a  peace  conference.  I  told  him  I'd  use  my 
own  heading  and  his  too,  just  to  keep  him  quiet. 
I  think  he's  got  his  pockets  stuffed  full  of  chapter 
headings  and  that  he'll  be  shooting  them  at  me  all 
the  way  through — like  a  machine-gun. 

I  guess  I  might  as  well  tell  you  about  Pee-wee, 
before  I  tell  you  about  the  conclave  or  whatever 


2  ROY  BLAKELEY 

you  call  it.  He's  Doctor  Harris's  son  and  he's  a 
member  of  the  Raven  Patrol.  He's  a  member 
in  good  standing,  only  he  doesn't  stand  very  high. 
Honest,  you  can  hardly  see  him  without  a  magnify 
ing  glass.  But  for  voice — good  night! 

He  sings  in  the  Methodist  Church  choir  and 
they  say  he  can  throw  his  voice  anywhere.  I  wish 
he'd  throw  it  in  the  ash  barrel,  I  know  that. 

He  always  wears  his  belt-axe  to  troop  meetings, 
in  case  the  Germans  should  invade  Bridgeboro,  I 
suppose.  He's  the  troop  mascot  and  if  you  walk 
around  him  three  times  and  ruffle  up  his  beautiful 
curly  hair,  you  can  change  your  luck. 

Well,  now  I'll  tell  you  about  the  meeting.  We 
had  a  big  special  meeting  to  decide  about  two 
things,  and  believe  me,  those  two  things  had 
momentous  consequences.  Momentous — that's  a 
good  word,  hey  ? 

One  thing,  we  wanted  to  decide  about  our  cam 
paign  for  collecting  books  for  soldiers,  and  another 
thing,  we  wanted  to  decide  how  we  could  all  go  up 
to  Temple  Camp  in  our  cabin  launch,  the  Good 
\Turn. 

This  large  and  what-do-you-call-it  launch — I 
mean  commodious  launch — is  a  dandy  boat,  except 
'for  one  thing — the  bow  is  too  near  the  stern.  If 


TROUBLES  OF  MY  OWN  3 

we  were  sardines  Instead  of  boy  scouts,  it  would  be 
all  right,  but  you  see  there's  twenty-four  of  us 
altogether,  not  counting  Captain  Kidd,  our  mascot 
— he's  a  parrot. 

So  I  got  up  and  said,  "How  are  we  going  to 
crowd  twenty-four  growing  boys  and  a  parrot  into 
a  twenty  foot  launch  ?" 

"It  can't  be  did,"  Doc  Carson  shouted. 

"Then  some  of  us  will  have  to  hike  it  on  our 
dear  little  feet,"  I  said. 

"Or  else  we'll  have  to  get  a  barge  or  something 
or  other  and  tow  it,"  Artie  Van  Arlen  said. 

"What,  with  a  three  horse-power  engine?" 
somebody  else  shouted. 

"You  can  bet  I  won't  be  one  of  the  ones  to  hike 
it,"  Pee-wee  yelled;  "I'll  dope  out  some  scheme  or 
other." 

And  believe  me,  he  did. 

Well,  after  we'd  been  talking  about  an  hour  or 
so  on  how  we'd  manage  it,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  our 
scoutmaster,  up  and  said  there  was  plenty  of  time 
for  that  as  long  as  we  were  not  going  to  camp  for 
a  couple  of  weeks  anyway,  and  that  we'd  better 
begin  thinking  of  how  we  were  going  to  start  about 
collecting  books  for  soldiers. 

All  the  while  I  had  something  very  important  to 


,4*  -KO  I       u«  ^y-t  i-vi-.i  >i-.  j. 

say,  and  I  was  kind  of  trembling,  as  you  might  say, 
for  I  thought  maybe  Mr.  Ellsworth  wouldn't  like 
the  idea.  Anyway  I  got  up  and  began : 

"The  author  that  wrote  all  about  'Tom  Slade's 
Adventures  in  the  World  War',"  I  said,  "told  me 
it  would  be  a  good  idea  for  me  to  write  up  our 
troop's  adventures  and  he'd  help  me  to  get  them 
published." 

Then  up  jumped  Pee-wee  Harris  like  a  jack-in- 
the-box. 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  he  shouted; 
"don't  you  know  you  have  to  have  a  command  o£ 
language  to  write  books?  You're  crazy  I" 

"I  should  worry  about  a  command  of  language," 
I  told  him.  "Haven't  I  got  command  of  the  Silver 
Fox  Patrol?  Anybody  who  can  command  the 
Silver  Fox  Patrol  ought  to  be  able  to  command  a 
few  languages  and  things.  I  could  command  a 
whole  regiment  even,"  I  kept  up,  for  I  saw  that 
Pee-wee  was  getting  worked  up,  as  usual,  and  all 
the  fellows  were  laughing,  even  Mr.  Ellsworth. 

"If  you  could  command  a  division,"  Westy 
Martin  said,  in  that  sober  way  of  his,  "you  ought 
to  be  able  to  command  English  all  right." 

"I  can  command  any  kind  of  a  division,"  I 
shouted,  all  the  while  winking  at  Westy.  "I  can 


TROUBLES  OF  MY  OWN  jg 

command  a  long  division  or  a  short  division  or  a 
multiplication  or  a  subtraction  or  a  plain  addi 
tion." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  Pee-wee  yelled. 
"You're  crazy!" 

"I  can  command  anything  except  Pee-wee  Har 
ris's  temper,"  I  said. 

Well,  you  ought  to  have  seen  Pee-wee.  Even 
Mr.  Ellsworth  had  to  laugh. 

"How  can  a  fellow  your  age  write  books?"  he 
fairly  screamed.  "You  have  to  have  sunsets  and 
twilights  and  gurgling  brooks  and " 

"You  leave  the  gurgling  brooks  to  me,"  I  said; 
"I'll  make  them  gurgle  all  right.  There's  going 
to  be  plenty  of  action  in  these  books.  And  Pee- 
wee  Harris  is  going  to  be  the  village  cut-up." 

"Are  you  going  to  have  girls?"  he  shouted. 

"Sure  I'm  going  to  have  girls — gold  haired 
girls — all  kinds — take  your  pick." 

"Good  night!"  Pee-wee  shouted,  "I  see  your 
finish." 

Well,  pretty  soon  everybody  was  shouting  at  the 
same  time  and  Pee-wee  was  dancing  around,  saying 
we  were  all  crazy.  Most  of  the  Raven  Patrol 
were  with  him  and  they  ought  to  be  called  the 
Raving  Patrol,  believe  me. 


6  ROY,  BLAKELEYj 

Then  Mr.  Ellsworth  held  up  his  hand  in  that 
quiet  way  he  has.  "This  sounds  like  the  Western 
Front  or  a  Bolshevik!  meeting,"  he  said,  "and  I'm 
afraid  our  young  Raven,  Mr.  Pee-wee  Harris,  will 
presently  explode  and  that  would  be  an  unpleasant 
episode  for  any  book/" 

"Good  night !"  I  said.  "Don't  want  any  of  my 
books  to  end  with  an  explosion." 

Then  he  said  how  it  would  be  a  good  idea  for 
me  to  write  up  our  adventures  and  how  he'd  help 
me  whenever  I  got  stuck  and  how  he  guessed  the 
author  of  Tom  Slade  would  put  in  fancy  touches 
for  me,  because  he  lives  in  our  town  and  he's  a 
whole  lot  interested  in  our  troop.  He  said  that 
breezes  and  distant  views  and  twilights  and  things 
aren't  so  hard  when  you  get  used  to  them  and  even 
storms  and  hurricanes  are  easy  if  you  only  know 
how.  He  said  girls  aren't  so  easy  to  manage 
though. 

"I'll  help  you  out  with  the  girls,"  Pee-wee  said; 
"I  know  all  about  girls.  And  I'll  help  you  with 
the  names  of  the  chapters,  too." 

"All  right,"  Mr.  Ellsworth  said,  "I  think  Pee, 
wee  will  prove  a  valuable  collaborator." 

"A  which?"  Pee-wee  said,  kind  of  frightened. 

So  then  we  all  laughed  and  Mr.  Ellsworth  said 


TROUBLES  OF  MY  OWN  7, 

it  was  getting  late  and  we'd  better  settle  about  col 
lecting  books  for  the  soldiers. 

We  decided  that  after  we  got  to  camp  I'd  begin 
writing  up  our  adventures  on  the  trip,  but  we 
couldn't  decide  how  we'd  all  go  in  our  boat,  and 
that  was  the  thing  that  troubled  us  a  lot,  because 
the  fellows  in  our  troop  always  hang  together  and 
we  didn't  like  the  idea  of  being  separated. 

Well,  I  guess  that's  all  there  is  to  tell  you  about 
the  meeting,  and  in  the  next  chapter  I'm  going  to 
tell  you  all  about  how  we  collected  the  books  for 
the  fellows  in  camp,  and  how  the  mystery  about 
the  boat  was  solved.  Those  are  Pce-wee's  words 
about  the  mystery  of  the  boat.  I  can't  see  that 
there  was  any  mystery  about  it,  but  there  was 
another  kind  of  a  mystery,  believe  me,  and  that 
kid  was  the  cause  of  it.  I  guess  maybe  you'll  like 
the  next  chapter  better  than  this  one. 

So  long. 


CHAPTER  II 

SWATTING  THE  SPY 

Now  I'm  going  to  tell  you  about  how  we  col 
lected  books  for  soldiers  and  especially  about  Pee- 
wee's  big  stunt. 

The  next  morning  we  started  out  and  by  night 
we  had  over  five  hundred  books.  Mr.  Ellsworth 
said  they  were  mostly  light  literature,  but  if  he  had 
only  had  to  carry  fifty  of  them  on  his  shoulder  like 
I  did,  he'd  have  thought  they  were  pretty  heavy 
literature,  believe  me. 

This  is  the  way  we  fixed  it.  The  Raving  Patrol 
(that's  Pee-wee's  patrol,  you  know)  used  Doctor 
Harris's  five-passenger  Fraud  car.  It  didn't  go 
very  good  and  Pumpkin  Odell  (Raven)  said  he 
guessed  it  was  because  the  wheels  were  tired — • 
that's  a  joke.  They  held  up  all  the  houses  in 
Little  Valley.  That's  about  sumpty-seven  miles  or 
so  from  Bridgeboro.  They've  got  two  stores  there 
and  a  sign  that  says  "Welcome  to  Automobilists" 
and  how  they'll  be  arrested  if  they  don't  obey  the 
speed  laws.  Welcome  to  jail — good  night! 

8 


SWATTING  THE  SPY  9 

The  Elk  Patrol  (that's  our  new  patrol,  you 
know)  went  over  to  East  Bridgeboro  with  Pinky 
Dawson's  express  wagon  (one  horse  power)  and 
some  horse — I  wish  you  could  see  him.  The  Elks 
were  a  pretty  lively  bunch,  I'll  say  that,  and  they 
cleaned  out  all  the  private  libraries  in  East  Bridge 
boro.  They  even  got  cook-books  and  arithmetics 
and  books  about  geometry — pity  the  poor  soldiers. 

The  Silver  Fox  Patrol  took  care  of  Bridgeboro. 
That's  the  best  patrol  of  the  whole  three.  I'm 
leader  of  the  Silver  Foxes.  The  Ravens  call  us  the 
Silver-plated  Foxes,  but  that's  because  we  call 
them  the  Raving  Patrol  and  the  reason  we  call 
them  the  Raving  Patrol  is  on  account  of  Pee-wee. 

Let's  see,  where  was  I?  Oh  yes,  the  Silver 
Foxes  took  care  of  Bridgeboro.  Brick  Warner 
(he's  red-headed)  has  a  Complex  car  or  a  Sim 
plex,  or  whatever  you  call  it — I  should  worry.  I 
mean  his  father  has  it.  He's  got  a  dandy  father; 
he  gave  Brick  five  dollars  so  that  we  could  have  a 
blow-out  at  lunch  time.  Oh,  boy,  we  had  two  blow 
outs  and  a  puncture. 

We  got  over  two  hundred  books  that  day — light 
literature,  dark  literature,  all  colors.  I  could  tell 
you  a  lot  of  things  that  happened  that  day,  because 
we  did  a  lot  of  good  turns,  and  one  bad  turn,  when 


io  ROY  BLAKELEY 

we  grazed  a  telegraph  pole.  What  cared  we? 
But  you'll  care  more  about  hearing  of  Pee-wee  and 
the  raving  Ravens  and  how  they  made  out. 

Anyway,  I  guess  I  might  as  well  tell  you  now 
about  the  scouts  in  my  patrol.  Don't  ever  borrow 
trouble,  but  get  to  be  a  patrol  leader,  and  you'll 
have  troubles  of  your  own.  Then  you  can  pick 
out  the  one  you  want  and  I'll  drown  the  rest. 
After  that  I'll  tell  you  about  the  grand  drive  in 
Little  Valley. 

First  in  the  Silver  Fox  Patrol  conies  Roy  Blake- 
ley — that's  me.  I'm  patrol  leader  and  I've  got 
eleven  merit  badges.  I've  got  two  sisters  too. 
One  of  them  is  crazy  about  the  movies. 

I've  got  seven  scouts  to  look  after  and  Captain 
iCidd,  the  parrot — he's  our  mascot.  Our  patrol 
color  is  green  and  he's  green  with  a  yellow  neck. 
He's  got  one  merit  badge — for  music.  Good 
night!  Then  comes  Westy  Martin,  and  Dorry 
Benton  and  Huntley  Manners  and  Sleuth  Seabury, 
because  he's  a  good  detective,  and  Will  Dawson 
and  Brick  Warner  and  Slick  Warner  and  that's  all. 

Now  I'll  tell  you  about  the  raving  Ravens.  Of 
course,  I  can't  tell  you  all  that  happened  in  Little 
iValley  that  day,  because  I  wasn't  there.  Doc  Car 
son  said  they  had  trouble  with  the  motor  and  Pee- 


SWATTING  THE  SPY  u 

wee.  He  said  that  Pee-wee  kept  running  wild  all 
day.  But  anyway  they  brought  back  a  lot  of 
books  with  them,  I'll  say  that  much. 

Well,  when  the  day's  drive  was  over,  we  all  took 
our  books  to  the  troop  room  and  piled  them  up  on 
the  table,  and  waited  for  Mr.  Ellsworth  to  come. 
He  usually  comes  home  from  the  city  on  the  Wool- 
worth  Special.  We  call  it  the  Woolworth  Special 
because  it  gets  to  Bridgeboro  at  five  ten.  Along 
about  six  o'clock  he  showed  up,  and  we  began  sort 
ing  out  the  books.  The  biggest  pile  was  brought 
in  by  the  Ravens,  and  when  he  noticed  a  pile  of 
about  twenty  or  thirty  books  tied  with  a  brown 
Cord,  he  asked  where  those  came  from.  Then  up 
jumped  Pee-wee,  very  excited,  and  said: 

"I'll  tell  you  about  those." 

"Do  tell,"  said  Elmer  Sawyer,  winking  at  me. 

"Good  night  I  Pee-wee's  got  the  floor,"  shouted 
Westy. 

"Floor !"  shouted  Dorry  Benton.  "He's  got  the 
walls  and  the  ceiling  and  the  mantelpiece  and 
everything." 

"Will  you  pay  a  little  attention?"  Pee-wee 
Icreamed. 

"We're  paying  as  little  as  possible,"  I  told  him. 

"Tou're  the  worst  of  the  lot,"  he  yelled;  "that 


12  ROY  BLAKELEY 

pile  of  books,  the  ones  with  the  brown  cord,  were 
given  to  us  by  a  kindly  old  gentleman ;  he " 

"A  which?"  Doc  Carson  said. 

"Don't  you  know  a  kindly  old  gentleman  when 
f ou  see  one  ?"  Pee-wee  fairly  screamed. 

"Let's  see  one,"  Artie  shouted. 

And  that's  the  way  it  went  on  till  Mr.  Ellsworth 
came  to  Pee-wee's  rescue  like  he  always  does.  He 
said  we  should  let  Pee-wee  have  the  chair. 

"  Here's  a  couple  of  chairs  for  him,"  we 
•houted. 

"He  qan  have  the  table  too,  if  he  wants  it,"  I 
•aid;  anything  to  keep  him  quiet. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  quiet,"  Pee-wee  screamed. 

Good  night,  that  was  some  meeting.  Well, 
pretty  soon  Mr.  Ellsworth  got  us  all  throttled 
down  and  Pee-wee  started  to  tell  us  about  his  visit 
to  the  kindly  old  gentleman.  It  seemed  that  was 
one  of  the  houses  that  Pee-wee  called  at  alone 
and  the  kindly  old  gentleman  fell  for  him  like 
grown  up  people  mostly  do.  I  don't  know  what 
it  is  but  everybody  seems  to  like  Pee-wee.  LYou 
know  just  because  you  jolly  a  fellow,  it's  not  a 
«ign  you  don't  like  him.  Pee-wee  is  one  bully 
little  scout,  I'll  say  that  much. 

"Do  you  want  to  hear  about  it?"  he  said. 


SWATTING  THE  SPY  13 

"Proceed  with  your  narrative,"  I  told  him;  "be 
gin  at  the  beginning,  go  on  till  you  come  to  the 
end,  then  stop." 

"Be  sure  to  stop,"  Westy  said. 

Well,  then  Pee-wee  went  on  to  tell  us  about  the 
kindly  old  gentleman.  He  lived  in  a  big  white 
house,  he  said,  with  grounds  around  it  and  a  big 
flag  pole  on  the  lawn,  with  a  flag  flying  from  it. 
He  said  that  the  old  gentleman  didn't  talk  very 
good  English  and  he  thought  maybe  he  was  a 
German  or  French  or  something  or  other.  He 
guessed  maybe  he  was  a  professor  or  something 
like  that.  Anyway,  he  took  Pee-wee  through  his 
library,  picking  out  the  books  he  didn't  want,  till 
•he  had  given  him  about  twenty  or  thirty.  Then 
they  tied  them  up  in  a  brown  cord  and  Pee-wee 
took  them  out  to  the  Fraud  car. 

Well  that's  about  all  there  was  to  it,  and  I 
guess  nothing  more  would  have  happened,  if  I  "" 
hadn't  untied  the  cord  and  picked  up  the  book  that 
lay  on  top.  It  was  a  book  about  German  his 
tory,  princes  and  all  that  stuff,  and  I  guess  it 
wouldn't  interest  soldiers  much.  Just  as  I  was 
running  through  it,  I  happened  to  notice  a  piece 
of  paper  between  the  leaves,  which  I  guess  the  old 
gentleman  put  there  for  a  book-mark.  As  soon  as 


ii4  ROY  BLAKELEY 

I  picked  it  up  and  read  it,  I  said,  "Good  night! 
Look  at  this,"  and  I  handed  it  to  Mr.  Ellsworth. 
It  said  something  about  getting  information  to 
Hindenburg,  and  about  how  a  certain  German 
spy  was  in  one  of  the  American  camps  in  France. 

Mr.  Ellsworth  read  it  through  two  or  three 
times,  and  then  said,  "Boys,  this  looks  like  a  very 
serious  matter.  You  said  the  old  gentleman  spoke 
broken  English,  Walter?" 

That's  the  name  he  always  called  Pee-wee. 

"Cracky,"  I  said,  "Pee-wee's  kindly  old 
gentleman  is  a  German  spy." 

"Sure  he  is,"  said  Westy  Martin,"  and  he's 
only  flying  the  American  flag  for  a  bluff,  he's  a 
deep  dyed  villain." 

"He  can't  be  dyed  very  deep,"  said  Doc  Carson, 
in  that  sober  way  of  his;  "because  we  haven't  any: 
German  dyes  to  dye  him  with." 

I  was  just  going  to  say  something  to  kid  Pee- 
wee  along,  when  I  noticed  that  Mr.  Ellsworth  was 
very  serious,  and  Pee-wee  was  staring  like  a 
ghost. 

"Boys,"  Mr.  Ellsworth  said,  "I  have  no  idea  of 
the  full  meaning  of  this  paper."  Then  he  said 
how  maybe  in  collecting  books  we  had  caught  a 
Spy  in  our  net.  He  said  that  he  was  going  to  take 


SWATTING  THE  SPY  15 

the  paper  anyway  and  show  it  to  the  Federal 
Commissioner,  down  in  the  Post  Office  Building. 

"If  he's  a  spy,  we'll  swat  him  all  right,"  I  said. 

"We'll  more  than  swat  him,"  Mr.  Ellsworth 
said,  and  I  could  see  by  the  look  in  his  eye  that  he 
meant  business. 


CHAPTER  III 

SWATTING  THE  SPY — CONTINUED 

WE  didn't  swat  him  in  that  chapter  because  I 
had  to  go  to  supper,  but  we'll  surely  swat  him  in 
this  one.  Positively  guaranteed. 

Pee-wee  was  proud  that  he  made  such  a  hit 
with  the  old  gentleman  and  especially  because  he 
got  so  many  books  from  him.  But  when  he 
realized  that  the  paper  I  found  in  one  of  the 
books  had  something  to  do  with  spying,  it  was 
all  Mr.  Ellsworth  could  do  to  keep  him  quiet. 
He  told  us  all  not  to  say  anything,  because  maybe, 
the  old  man  might  find  out  that  he  was  going  to  be 
nabbed  and  go  away.  I  guess  Pee-wee  felt  pretty 
important.  Anyway  I  know  he  was  frightened, 
because  all  the  next  morning  he  kept  asking  me  if 
he'd  have  to  go  to  court  and  things  like  that. 

"The  only  court  you'll  go  to,  is  the  tennis 
court,"  I  told  him;  so  we  made  up  a  set  with  my 
two  sisters,  Ruth  and  Margorie,  and  the  girls  bea* 
us  three  games.  While  we  were  playing,  along 
came  Mr.  Ellsworth  and  Commissioner  Terry 

16 


SWATTING  THE  SPY  17 

with  two  strange  men,  and  I  could  see  Pee-wee  was 
very  nervous.  They  sent  the  girls  away  and  then 
began  to  ask  Pee-wee  questions.  I  could  see  that 
they  thought  the  discovery  we  made  was  pretty 
serious. 

"Are  you  the  boy  that  found  the  paper  in  the 
book  ?"  they  asked  me.  Then  they  wanted  to  know 
what  kind  of  a  book  it  was,  and  I  told  them  it  was 
a  book  about  German  history  and  they  screwed  up 
their  faces  and  looked  very  suspicious. 

"You  say  that  the  man  spoke  broken  English?" 
one  of  them  asked  Pee-wee. 

Pee-wee  was  kind  of  nervous,  I  could  see.  "It 
— it — well  it  wasn't  exactly  broken,"  he  said. 

"Just  a  little  bent,"  I  said,  and  oh,  you  ought  to 
have  seen  the  frown  Mr.  Ellsworth  gave  me. 

"It  was  kind  of — just  a  little — "  Pee-wee  began. 

"We  understand,"  one  of  the  men  said.  Then 
the  other  one  spoke  to  us.  He  said,  "Boys,  we 
want  you  to  go  over  with  us  and  we  want  this 
youngster  to  identify  the  man.  You  needn't  be 
afraid,  Uncle  Sam  is  with  you." 

But,  cracky,  I  didn't  like  it  and  I  guess  Pee-wee 
didn't  either.  I've  read  stories  about  boys  that 
had  men  arrested  and  all  that,  and  I  always 
thought  I'd  like  to  be  one  of  those  regular  heroes. 


1 8  ROY  BLAKELEY 

But  when  it  came  to  really  doing  it,  I  knew  then 
that  I  didn't  like  to  help  arrest  anybody,  and  I 
bet  most  real  fellows  feel  the  same  way.  I  felt 
funny,  kind  of.  That's  why  I  have  no  use  for 
young  detectives  in  stories,  because  I  know  you've 
got  to  be  a  grown-up  man  to  feel  that  way  and 
do  things  like  that. 

They  had  an  automobile  right  near  the  tennis 
courts  and  we  all  got  in  and  Pee-wee  and  I  sat  in 
back  with  our  scoutmaster.  Cracky,  I  was  glad 
our  scoutmaster  was  along,  that's  one  sure  thing. 

Pretty  soon  we  got  to  Little  Valley  and  Pee- 
wee  pointed  out  the  big  white  house  with  the  lawn 
and  the  flag  flying  there.  Jiminy,  but  it  looked 
good  and  I  wished  we  were  up  at  Temple  Camp, 
raising  our  colors  near  the  boat  landing. 

While  we  were  going  up  the  gravel  path,  the 
old  gentleman  came  out  on  his  porch  and  looked 
at  us  and  I  felt  kind  of  ashamed  and  I  could  see 
Pee-wee  did  too.  But,  cracky,  I've  got  no  use 
for  spies,  that's  one  sure  thing.  Pee-wee  and  I 
kind  of  hung  behind  and  I  guess  he  felt  funny, 
sort  of,  when  the  old  gentleman  waved  his  hand 
to  him,  as  if  they  were  old  friends. 

I  can't  remember  all  they  said  but  the  two  men 
who  I  knew  were  detectives,  showed  the  old 


I? 

gentleman  the  paper  and  asked  him  what  it  meant. 
First  he  seemed  kind  of  flustered  and  angry  and 
I  know  Pee-wee's  heart  was  thumping — anyway 
it  would  have  been  thumping,  except  that  it  was 
up  in  his  throat. 

Then  the  men  said  that  they'd  have  to  search 
the  house  to  see  if  there  was  a  wireless  and  then 
the  old  gentleman  got  angry;  then  all  of  a  sud 
den  he  sat  down  in  one  of  the  wicker  chairs  on 
the  porch  and  began  to  laugh  and  laugh  and 
laugh.  Then  he  looked  at  Pee-wee  and  said, 

"I  suppose  this  is  the  young  gentleman  who 
succeeded  in  trapping  me.  I  must  take  off  my  hat 
to  the  Boy  Scouts,"  and  he  smiled  with  an  awful 
pleasant  kind  of  a  smile  and  held  out  his  hand  to 
Pee-wee. 

Well,  you  should  have  seen  Pee-wee.  It  was  as 
good  as  a  three-ringed  circus.  He  stood  there 
as  if  he  was  posing  for  animal  crackers.  And 
even  the  detectives  looked  kind  of  puzzled,  but  all 
the  while  suspicious. 

"Are  you  the  spy-catcher?"  the  old  gentleman 
said  to  Pee-wee,  but  Pee-wee  looked  all  flabber 
gasted  and  only  shifted  from  one  foot  to  the 
other. 

"I  hope  you  don't  mean  to  kill  me  with  that  belt- 


20  ROY  BLAKELEY 

axe?"  the  old  gentleman  asked.  But  Pee-wee 
just  couldn't  speak. 

"He  must  be  a  telephone  girl — he  doesn't 
answer,"  I  blurted  out,  and  even  the  detectives 
had  to  laugh. 

"Gentlemen,  if  you  will  step  inside,  I'll  make 
full  confession  and  then  give  myself  up,"  the  old 
man  said;  "for  I  see  there  is  no  use  in  trying  to 
escape  the  Boy  Scouts.  It  was  I  who  wrote  that 
treasonable  memorandum  and  I  may  as  well  tell 
you  that  I  have  a  wireless.  I  will  give  you  my 
whole  history.  I  see  that  my  young  friend  here  is 
a  most  capable  secret  service  agent." 

"We're  only  small  boys — we  belong  to  the  in 
fantry,"  I  said,  for  I  just  couldn't  help  blurting 
it  out. 

Well,  we  all  went  inside  and  I  could  see  that 
the  Commissioner  and  the  detectives  kept  very 
near  the  old  gentleman  as  if  they  didn't  have  much 
use  for  his  laughing  and  his  pleasant  talk.  I 
guess  maybe  they  were  used  to  that  kind  of  thing, 
and  he  couldn't  fool  them. 

When  we  got  into  his  library  I  saw  books  all 
around  on  the  shelves,  hundreds  of  them  I  guess, 
and  the  desk  was  covered  with  papers  and  there 
was  a  picture  of  Mark  Twain  with  "Best  regards 


SWATTING  THE  SPY  21 

to  Mr.  Domicile,"  written  on  it.  Gee  whittaker,  I 
thought  when  I  looked  around;  maybe  Mr.  Don- 
nellee  is  a  deep-dyed  spy  all  right,  but  he's  sure 
a  high-brow. 

"You'd  have  to  take  an  elevator  to  get  up  to 
him,"  I  whispered  to  Pee-wee. 

"Shhh,"  Pee-wee  said,  "maybe  he  isn't  dyed  so 
yery  deep — there's  different  shades  of  dyes." 

"Maybe  he's  only  dyed  a  light  gray  or  a  pale 
blue,"  I  said. 

Then  Mr.  Donnelle  got  out  a  big  fat  red  book 
that  said  on  it  "Who's  Who  in  America"  and, 
jiminy,  I'm  glad  I  never  had  to  study  it,  because 
it  had  about  a  million  pages.  I  hate  biography 
anyway — biography  and  arithmetic.  Then  he 
turned  to  a  certain  page. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "if  you  will  just 
read  this  I  will  then  consent  to  go  with  you,"  and 
he  smiled  all  over  his  face. 

The  four  men  leaned  over  and  began  reading, 
but  Pee-wee  and  I  didn't  because  they  didn't  ask 
us  and  Boy  Scouts  don't  butt  in. 

"I  bet  it  tells  all  about  German  spies  and  every 
thing,  and  now  he's  going  to  make  a  full  con 
fession,"  Pee-wee  said;  "maybe  our  names  will  be 
in  the  New  York  papers,  hey?" 


22  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"They'll  be  more  likely  to  be  in  the  fly-paper," 
I  said;  "there's  something  funny  about  this." 

"I  bet  he  was  going  to  blow  up  some  ships," 
•Pee-wee  said. 

"I  bet  he'll  blow  us  up  in  a  minute,"  I  told  him; 
because  I  could  see  that  he  was  saying  something 
to  the  men  while  they  all  looked  at  the  book,  anc! 
that  the  whole  four  of  them  were  laughing — 
especially  Mr.  Ellsworth. 

"It  was  the  elder  boy  who  discovered  it,"  I 
heard  him  say,  smiling  all  the  while. 

"Good  night!"  I  said  to  Pee-wee,  "I  thought 
we  had  a  German  in  custody,  but  instead  of  that,, 
we're  in  Dutch!" 

"Will  they  send  us  to  jail?"  he  whispered. 

"I  think  we'll  get  about  ten  merit  badges  for 
this — not,"  I  said ;  "he's  no  spy." 

Well,  the  men  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  us, 
only  strolled  over  to  one  side  of  the  room  and 
began  chatting  together,  and  Mr.  Donnelle  got 
a  box  of  cigars  and  they  each  took  one. 

"I  wouldn't  smoke  one  of  those  cigars,"  Pee- 
wee  said,  "they  might  be  bombs.  The  Germans 
are  pretty  tricky — safety  first." 

Then  Mr.  Ellsworth  came  over  to  us,  smiling 
all  over  his  face.  "Well,  boys,"  he  said,  "I'm 


SWATTING  THE  SPY  23 

glad  to  say  that  our  spy  quest  has  gone  up  in 
smoke.  Mr.  Donnelle  is  one  of  the  best  known 
authors  of  America.  He  is  writing  a  story  of 
the  war  and  our  dark  memorandum  is  just  a  little 
literary  note  of  his  about  a  spy  among  the  Ameri 
can  forces.  I  think  we  shall  find  it  a  most  in 
teresting  story  when  it  is  finished.  It  is  full  of 
German  intrigue  and  you  will  be  glad  to  know  that 
the  imaginary  spy  is  caught  and  court-martialled. 
.You  have  done  a  fine  thing  by  your  discovery,  for 
Mr.  Donnelle  has  become  greatly  interested  in 
the  Scouts,  and  especially  in  our  young  scout 
author."  Then  he  gave  me  a  funny  look.  "So 
you  see  our  dark  memorandum  was  not  so  dark 
after  all." 

"G-o-o-d  night!"  I  said;  "it  was  a  kind  of  a 
pale  white." 

"And  I  dare  say,"  Mr.  Ellsworth  said,  all  the 
while  slapping  me  on  the  shoulder,  "that  our  deep- 
dyed  villain  is  going  to  prove  a  very  good  friend." 

"Even  if  you're  deep-dyed,"  said  Pee-wee, 
"sometimes  the  colors  will  run  and  you  won't  be 
so  deep-dyed  after  all.  My  sister  had  a  skirt  and 
she  dyed  it  a  deep  " 

Honest,  that  kid  is  a  scream. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  PLOT  GROWS  THINNER — OR  ELSE  THICKER 

PEE-WEE  says  it  grows  thicker  and  I  say  it 
grows  thinner,  so  I  put  it  both  ways.  I  told  him 
things  would  begin  to  stir  up  in  this  chapter  and  he 
said  a  thing  always  gets  thicker  when  you  stir  it. 
I  should  worry. 

"Suppose  we  should  go  ooating  or  something 
like  that  where  there's  a  lot  of  water,"  I  told  him ; 
"that  would  thin  it  some  if  you  added  water, 
wouldn't  it?" 

"You're  crazy,"  he  shouted. 

Westy  Martin  wanted  to  name  it  The  Deep 
Dyed  Villain — so  you  can  call  it  that  if  you  want 
to — I  don't  care. 

Now  I'll  start  off.  You  remember  about  Mr. 
Domicile  saying  that  he  had  a  wireless.  Well, 
pretty  soon  after  what  I've  been  telling  you  about, 
the  men  went  away  and  they  were  all  laughing 
and  good  natured  about  it.  I  heard  one  of  them 
say  that  the  Boy  Scouts  were  a  wide-awake  lot. 
Believe  me,  they  wouldn't  say  that  if  they  saw 

24 


THE  PLOT  GROWS  THINNER        2$ 

us  sleeping  after  a  day's  hike  at  Temple  Camp. 
If  you  heard  Vic  Norris  snore,  you'd  think  it  was 
the  West  Front  in  France. 

Well  anyway,  Mr.  Donnelle  wanted  Pee-wee 
and  me  to  stay  at  his  house  a  little  while,  because 
he  said  he  was  kind  of  interested  in  us.  He  would 
listen  to  Pee-wee  very  sober  like  and  then  begin 
to  laugh.  And  whenever  Pee-wee  tried  to  ex 
plain,  it  only  made  him  laugh  more. 

"Anyway,  I  could  see  you  weren't  a  very  bad 
kind  of  a  spy,"  Pee-wee  said. 

Jiminetty !  I  had  to  laugh. 

Well,  Mr.  Donnelle  asked  us  all  about  the 
Scouts  and  we  told  him  all  about  them — Pee-wee 
mostly  did  that.  He's  a  scout  propaganderlet — 
that's  a  small  sized  propagandist.  We  told  him 
how  we  didn't  know  how  we  are  going  to  manage 
to  get  up  to  Temple  Camp  in  our  launch,  because 
it  would  only  hold  about  seven  or  eight  boys  and 
we  had  twenty-four,  not  counting  Captain  Kidd, 
the  parrot. 

"Well,  now  I  have  a  little  scheme,"  he  said, 
smiling  all  the  while,  "and  perhaps  we  can  hit 
some  sort  of  a  plan.  If  I  can  only  get  you  boys  out 
of  the  way,  away  up  at  camp,  Fll  be  able  to  carry 
on  my  German  propaganda  work."  Then  he 


26  ROY  BLAKELEY 

winked  at  me  and  I  knew  he  was  kidding  Pee-wee. 

Well,  believe  me,  we  hit  a  plan  all  right;  we 
more  than  hit  it,  we  gave  it  a  knockout  blow. 

All  the  while  we  were  talking,  he  was  taking  us 
across  the  lawn  till  pretty  soon  we  came  to  a  little 
patch  of  woods  and  as  soon  as  I  got  a  whiff  of 
those  trees,  good  night,  I  felt  as  if  I  was  up  at 
Temple  Camp  already.  That's  a  funny  thing 
about  trees — you  get  to  know  them  and  like  them 
sort  of. 

Then  pretty  soon  we  came  to  a  creek  that  ran 
through  the  woods  and  I  could  see  it  was  deep  and 
all  shaded  by  the  trees.  Oh,  jiminy,  it  was  fine. 
And  you  could  hear  it  ripple  too,  just  like  the 
water  of  Black  Lake  up  near  Temple  Camp.  If 
I  was  a  grown-up  author  I  could  write  some  dandy 
stuff  about  it,  because  it  was  all  dark  and  spooky 
as  you  might  say,  and  you  could  see  the  trees  re 
flected  in  it  and  casting  their  something  or  other — 
you  know  what  I  mean. 

"Can  you  follow  a  trail?"  Mr.  Domicile  asked 
us. 

"Trails  are  our  middle  names,"  I  told  him,  "and 
I  can  follow  one " 

"Whitherso'er "  Pee-wee  began. 

"Whither  so  which?"  I  said.     Because  he  was 


THE  PLOT  GROWS  THINNER        27; 

trying  to  talk  high  brow  just  because  he  knew 
Mr.  Domicile  was  an  author. 

So  he  led  us  along  a  trail  that  ran  along  the 
shore  all  in  and  out  through  trees,  and  he  said  it 
was  all  his  property.  Pretty  soon  I  could  see  part 
of  a  house  through  the  trees  and  I  thought  I'd 
like  to  live  there,  it  was  so  lonely. 

"You  mean  secluded,"  Pee-wee  said.  Mr.  Don- 
nelle  smiled  and  I  told  him  Pee-wee  was  a  young 
dictionary — pocket  size. 

Pretty  soon  we  reached  the  ho:ise  and,  good 
night,  it  wasn't  any  house  at  all;  it  was  a  house 
boat.  And  I  could  see  the  fixtures  for  a  wireless 
on  it,  only  the  wires  had  been  taken  down. 

Then  Mr.  Domicile  said,  "Boys,"  he  said,  "this 
is  my  old  workshop  and  I  have  spent  many  happy 
hours  in  it.  But  I  don't  use  it  any  more  and  if 
you  boys  think  you  could  all  pile  into  it,  why  you 
are  welcome  to  it  for  the  summer.  It  has  no 
power,  but  perhaps  you  could  tow  it  behind  your 
launch.  Anyway  you  may  charter  it  for  the  large 
sum  of  nothing  at  all,  as  a  reward  for  foiling  a 
spy." 

"I — I  kind  of  knew  you  were  not  a  spy  all  the 
time,"  said  Pee-wee. 


28  ROY  BLAKELEY 

Well,  I  was  so  flabbergasted  that  I  just  couldn't 
speak  and  even  Pee-wee  was  struck  dumb.  We 
just  gaped  like  a  couple  of  idiots,  and  after  a  while 
I  said,  "Cracky,  it's  too  good  to  be  true." 

"So  you  see  what  comes  from  collecting  books 
for  soldiers  and  for  keeping  your  eyes  open,"  Mr. 
Donnelle  said;  "you  have  caught  a  bigger  fish  than 
you  thought.  Now  suppose  I  show  you  through 
the  inside." 

Now  here  is  the  place  where  the  plot  begins  to 
get  thicker  and,  beli  ve  me,  in  four  or  five  chapters 
it  will  be  as  thick  as  mud.  We  were  just  coming 
up  to  the  house-boat  to  go  aboard  it,  when  sud 
denly  the  door  flew  open  and  a  fellow  scampered 
across  the  deck  and  ran  away. 

I  could  see  that  he  had  pretty  shabby  clothes 
and  a  peaked  cap  and  I  guess  he  was  startled  to 
hear  us  coming.  In  just  a  few  seconds  he  was 
gone  in  the  woods  and  we  all  stood  gaping  there 
while  the  boat  bobbed  up  and  down,  on  account  of 
him  jumping  from  it.  But  I  got  a  squint  at  his 
face  all  right,  and  I  noticed  the  color  of  his  cap 
and  how  he  ran,  and  I'm  mighty  glad  I  did,  be 
cause  that  fellow  was  going  to  come  into  our  young 
lives  again  and  cause  us  a  lot  of  trouble,  you  can 
bet 


THE  PLOT  GROWS  THINNER        29 

Mr.  Donnelle  said  he  was  probably  just  a  tramp 
that  had  been  sleeping  in  the  boat  and  he  didn't 
seem  to  mind  much,  only  he  said  it  would  be  bet 
ter  to  keep  the  door  locked. 

"Maybe  he  might  have  been  a — "  Pee-wee  be 
gan. 

"No  siree,"  I  said.  "We've  had  enough  of  deep- 
dyed  villains  for  one  day,  if  that's  what  you  were 
going  to  say." 

"Maybe  we'd  better  track  him,"  said  Pee-wee, 
very  serious. 

"Nix  on  the  tracking,"  I  said,  "I've  retired  from 
the  detective  business,  and  now  I'm  going  to  be 
cook  on  a  house-boat." 

"We'll  have  a  good  anchor  anyway  if  you  make 
biscuits,"  Pee-wee  said. 

"They'll  weigh  more  than  you  do  anyway,"  I 
fired  back.  And  Mr.  Donnelle  began  to  laugh. 

Well,  we  didn't  bother  our  heads  any  more 
about  the  tramp,  but  I  could  see  that  Pee-wee 
would  have  been  happier  if  we'd  have  thought  it 
was  the  Kaiser  or  Villa,  instead  of  just  a  plain 
ordinary  tramp,  looking  for  a  place  to  sleep.  But 
oh,  crinkums,  you'll  be  surprised  when  you  hear 
fcll  about  that  fellow  and  who  he  was  and  I  sup- 


30  ROY  BLAKELEY 

pose  you'd  like  me  to  tell  you  now,  wouldn't  you  ? 
But  I  won't. 

I've  got  to  go  to  camp  meeting  now,  so  good 
bye,  see  you  later. 


CHAPTER  V 

LOST 

Now  I'm  going  to  write  until  my  sister  begins 
playing  the  piano.  Music  and  literature  don't  mix, 
believe  me.  There  are  two  cruises  in  this  book, 
a  big  one  and  a  little  one.  You  can  take  your  pick. 
The  little  one  is  full  of  mud  and  the  big  one  is 
full  of  pep.  Anyway  you  get  your  money's  worth, 
that's  one  sure  thing. 

This  chapter  is  about  the  little  cruise.  But  first 
I  have  to  tell  you  about  the  house-boat,  because 
it  turned  out  to  be  our  home  sweet  home  for  a 
couple  of  weeks.  It  didn't  only  turn  out,  but  it 
turned  in  and  it  turned  sideways  and  every  which 
way.  But  I'm  not  going  to  knock  it.  It  got 
knocks  enough  going  through  the  creek  and  up 
Bridgeboro  River.  It  knocked  into  two  bridges 
and  goodness  knows  what  all.  But  what  cared  we, 
yo  ho  ?  We  cared  nit — I  mean  naught. 

First  Mr.  Donnelle  showed  us  through  it  and  it 
was  dandy,  only  in  very  poor  shape.  It's  shape 
was  square.  But  I  wouldn't  laugh  at  it  because  we 

31 


32  ROYj  BLAKELEY 

had  a  lot  of  fun  on  it.  Inside  it  had  two  rooms 
and  a  little  kitchen  and  the  roof  had  a  railing 
around  it  and  there  was  lots  of  room  there.  There 
was  lots  of  room  on  the  deck  too.  And  there  was 
a  kind  of  little  guard-house,  too,  to  put  Pee-wee 
in  if  he  didn't  behave.  Some  of  the  windows  were 
broken,  but  I  knew  we  could  fix  them  easily.  All 
we  needed  to  do  was  eat  some  green  apples  and 
then  we'd  have  plenty  of  panes.  There  were  some 
lockers  too,  only  one  of  them  was  locked  and  we 
couldn't  get  into  it. 

I  guess  the  tramp  didn't  take  anything,  be 
cause  there  was  nothing  missing.  I  guess  all  he 
took  was  a  look  around.  There  were  some 
cushions  piled  on  one  of  the  lockers  and  they; 
looked  as  if  someone  had  been  sleeping  on  them. 
Pee-wee  said  he  could  see  the  oil  stove  had  been 
used  by  the  smell — he's  got  such  sharp  eyes  that 
he  can  see  a  smell.  I  told  him  he  had  a  classy  eye 
because  there  was  a  pupil  in  it,  and  you  ought  to 
hare  seen  Mr.  Donnelle  laugh.  I  guess  he  thought 
we  were  crazy. 

"Well  we  should  worry  about  the  tramp,"  I 
said,  "especially  now  that  we  have  a  boat  like  this. 
The  next  thing  to  do  is  to  bring  the  whole  troop 
and  get  her  fixed  up." 


LOST  33 

One  thing  was  easy  anyway.  Just  below  Bridge- 
boro,  where  we  live,  there  is  a  kind  of  a  branch 
flowing  into  the  Bridgeboro  River.  We  always 
called  it  the  creek.  Now  we  found  out  from  Mr. 
Donnelle  that  it  started  along  up  above  Little  Val 
ley.  Over  there  they  call  it  Dutch  Creek.  He 
said  that  at  high  tide  we  could  float  the  house 
boat  right  down  into  Bridgeboro  River  and  then 
wait  for  the  up  tide  or  else  tow  it  up  to  Bridge 
boro.  Cracky,  I  could  see  it  would  be  a  cinch 
and  I  was  glad  because  we  fellows  didn't  have 
money  enough  to  have  the  boat  carted  by  land. 
/3ut,  good  night,  this  way  was  easy. 

The  next  morning  I  sent  a  brich  bark  call  to  all 
the  fellows  in  our  troop.  I  sent  them  each  a  little 
piece  of  birch  bark  by  courier.  Connie  Bennett, 
he's  our  courier.  And  that  meant  come  to  Special 
Meeting — W.  S.  W.  S.  means  without  scout 
master.  So  pretty  soon  they  began  coming  up  to 
Camp  Solitaire.  That's  the  name  I  gave  the  tent 
I  have  on  our  lawn.  When  they  were  all  there, 
I  told  them  about  Mr.  Donnelle  and  the  house 
boat,  and  we  decided  that  we'd  hike  over  to  Little 
Valley  and  pile  right  in  and  get  it  ready  instead  of 
bringing  it  to  Bridgeboro  first.  We  decided  that 


34  ROY  BLAKELEY 

if  we  worked  on  it  for  about  three  days,  it  would 
be  ready. 

So  we  all  started  to  hike  it  along  the  road  to 
Little  Valley.  We  had  an  adventure  before  we 
got  there,  and  I  guess  I'd  better  tell  you  about  it. 
I  made  a  map  too,  so  you  can  see  the  way  every 
thing  was.  It's  about  five  miles  to  Little  Valley 
by  the  road. 

Well,  we  were  all  hiking  it  along,  sometimes 
going  scout-pace  and  most  of  the  time  jollying  Pee- 
wee,  when  all  of  a  sudden  I  noticed  a  mark  on  a 
rock  that  I  was  sure  was  a  scout  mark.  It  was  an 
arrow  and  it  was  marked  with  a  piece  of  slate. 
Underneath  the  arrow  was  another  mark  like  a 
pail,  so  I  knew  the  sign  meant  that  there  was  water 
in  that  direction. 

I  didn't  know  any  scouts  around  our  way  that 
could  be  camping  there,  but  whenever  a  scout  sees 
a  scout  sign  he  usually  likes  to  follow  it  up.  So 
I  told  the  fellows  I  was  going  to  follow  if  there 
was  any  time.  They  said  it  was  an  old  last  year's 
mark,  but  go  ahead  if  I  wanted  to,  and  I  told 
them  I'd  meet  them  at  Little  Valley  later. 

So  now  comes  the  adventure.  As  soon  as  I  left 
the  fellows,  I  hit  the  trail  into  the  woods  just  like 
you'll  see  on  the  map  I  made.  It  wasn't  much  of 


LOST  3* 

a  trail  and  I  guess  a  fellow  couldn't  follow  it  if  he 
wasn't  a  scout.  It  was  all  thick  woods  like  a 
jungle  kind  of,  and  I  could  see  where  branches  had 
been  broken  by  somebody  that  passed  there. 
Pretty  soon  it  began  to  get  swampy  and  there 
wasn't  any  more  trail  at  all. 

As  long  as  there's  any  sign  of  a  trail  you  can't 
get  me  rattled,  but  cracky,  I  don't  like  marshes. 
iYou  can  get  lost  in  a  marsh  easier  than  in  any 
other  place.  Pretty  soon  I  was  plodding  around 
deeper  than  my  knees  and  it  gave  me  a  strain 
every  time  I  dragged  my  leg  out  of  the  swamp. 
Maybe  you'll  wonder  why  I  didn't  go  back,  but  if 
you  do,  that's  because  you  don't  know  much  about 
marshes.  All  of  a  sudden  I  was  right  in  the  middle 
of  it,  as  you  might  say,  and  there  were  no  land 
marks  at  all. 

Pretty  soon  I  was  in  waist  deep  and  then  I  was 
scared,  you  can  bet.  If  there's  one  thing  that  gets 
me  scared  it's  quicksand.  As  long  as  I  could  get 
my  legs  out  I  was  all  right,  but  when  I  began  sink 
ing  as  low  as  my  waist  and  had  to  drag  myself 
out  by  squirming  and  catching  hold  of  bushes 
and  things,  then  I  lost  my  nerve — I  have  to  admit 
it. 

I  saw  I  was  a  fool  ever  to  go  into  that  pesky 


36  ROY  BLAKELEY 

place,  but  it  was  too  late  and  I  knew  that  pretty 
soon  I'd  be  in  too  deep  to  get  out.  Oh,  jiminies, 
I  was  scared.  Once,  after  I  scrambled  out  I  tried 
lying  flat  on  the  marsh  with  the  reeds  laid  over 
sideways  underneath  me.  But  they  didn't  hold 
me  up  and  anyway  I  knew  I  couldn't  lie  that  way 
forever.  I  wondered  how  a  scout  had  ever  gone 
through  here. 

Before  I  knew  how  to  swim  I  came  mighty  near 
to  getting  drowned  and  I  got  lost  in  the  woods, 
too,  when  I  was  a  tenderfoot.  But  this  was  worse 
than  anything  I  ever  knew  before.  Once  I  sank 
down  almost  to  my  shoulders  and  I  guess  I  would 
have  been  a  goner,  only  my  feet  struck  something 
hard  and  flat  and  I  stood  on  that  until  I  got  rested 
a  little. 

All  the  while  I  looked  around  to  see  if  I  could 
decide  where  the  land  might  be  a  little  harder, 
but  I  guess  I  must  have  been  in  the  worst  part  of 
it.  I  decided  that  the  safest  thing  I  could  do  was 
to  stand  just  where  I  was.  I  didn't  know  what  it 
was  I  was  standing  on,  but  anyway  it  didn't  seem 
to  sink  any,  so  I  was  kind  of  safe  there,  as  you 
might  say.  But  I  ^new  I  could  never  raise  myself 
out  of  that  place  and  I'd  have  to  just  stand  there 


LOST  37 

till  I  got  so  tired  and  hungry,  that  I'd  drop  down 
and  be  sucked  into  the  marsh. 

So  anyway,  I'd  have  to  die,  I  was  sure  of  that, 
only  I  didn't  want  to  die  any  sooner  than  I  had  to. 
Two  or  three  times  I  shouted  as  loud  as  I  could, 
but  I  knew  it  wasn't  any  use,  because  I  was  two  or 
three  miles  away  from  any  house.  Even  if  any 
body  knew,  I  didn't  see  how  they  could  get  to  me 
and  it  was  only  by  good  luck  that  I  wasn't  dead 
already  on  account  of  the  hard  thing  I  was  stand 
ing  on.  Every  once  in  a  while  bubbles  would  come 
up  and  I  thought  it  was  because  that  thing  I  was 
standing  on  was  sinking  lower.  The  marsh  was 
just  about  even  with  my  shoulders  and  I  kept  look 
ing  sideways  at  my  shoulders  all  the  time,  so  as 
to  see  if  I  was  going  down  any  and  sometimes  I 
thought  I  was.  But  I  guess  I  wasn't. 

The  weeds  stood  up  all  around  me  so  I  couldn't 
see,  except  up  in  the  air  and  it  was  like  being  in  a 
grave  with  just  my  head  out.  Gee,  I  thought  about 
the  fellows  hiking  it  to  Little  Valley  and  begin 
ning  work  on  the  house-boat  and  waiting  for  me  to 
come,  and  I  could  just  kind  of  hear  them  jollying 
Pee-wee,  and  oh,  I  wished  I  was  there.  I  was 
wondering  who  the  Silver  Foxes  would  elect  for 
their  patrol  leader  and  then  I  got  to  thinking  how 


38  ROY  BLAKELEY 

nobody,  not  even  my  mother  and  fatherr  would  ever 
know  what  became  of  me,  because  you  can't  drag 
a  marsh  like  you  can  a  river.  And  it  seemed  kind 
of  funny  like,  to  die  without  anybody  ever  know 
ing  what  became  of  you. 

Pretty  soon  my  legs  began  getting  very  tired  like 
a  fellow's  legs  always  do  when  he  keeps  standing 
in  water.  Only  this  was  worse  than  water.  I 
wondered  how  it  would  feel  when  my  knees  gav^ 
out  and  I  sank  down. 

Then  I  happened  to  think  about  having  my  hike- 
book  with  me.  It  was  all  wet  and  the  pencil  was 
wet  too,  but  I  held  it  up  high  out  of  the  marsh  and 
wrote  this  on  one  of  the  pages.  After  I  wrote  it 
I  stuck  it  up  high  on  one  of  the  marsh  weeds. 

This  is  where  Roy  Blakeley,  patrol  leader,  Silver 
Fox  Patrol,  Bridgeboro  Troop,  B.  S.  A.,  was  sucked 
down  into  the  marsh,  after  he  couldn't  stand  up  any 
more.  I  was  standing  on  something  that  was  hard 
and  maybe  you'll  find  my  body  lying  on  that.  In 
my  desk  is  something  I  was  going  to  give  my 
mother  for  a  birthday  present.  I  send  her  a  lot 
of  love  too.  My  father  too.  And  I  hope  my  Patrol 
gets  along  all  right  and  that  the  troop  has  a  lot  of 
fun  this  summer.  I  hope  somebody  will  find  this. 


CHAPTER  VI 


AFTER  that  I  made  up  my  mind  I  wouldn't  think 
any  more  about  living  and  then  I  was  satisfied, 
kind  of.  'Cause  as  long  as  you  know  you've  got 
to  die,  what's  the  difference.  They  could  get 
another  fellow  to  lead  the  patrol,  that's  one  sure 
thing.  Mostly  I  cared  about  my  mother  on  ac 
count  of  not  being  able  to  say  good-bye  to  her. 

All  of  a  sudden  it  seemed  as  if  there  was  more 
water  around  me  than  before.  Up  to  that  time  it 
was  mushy,  kind  of,  but  not  much  water.  But  now; 
it  was  more  like  water  all  around  me  and  I  noticed 
a  little  bunch  of  net  moss  near  me.  Maybe  you 
don't  know  what  net  moss  is.  It's  moss  that 
grows  in  swamps.  Well,  what  do  you  think  I  saw 
lying  on  that  clump  of  net  moss?  Cracky,  you'd 
hardly  believe  it,  but  it  was  a  spark  plug.  And  it 
looked  funny  to  see  it  there. 

If  you're  not  a  scout  maybe  you  don't  know  any 
thing  about  camping,  but  it's  one  of  our  rules  not 
to  defile  the  woods  with  rubbish  and  Mr.  Ells- 

39 


40  ROY  BLAKELEY 

worth  always  told  us  a  tomato  can  didn't  look 
right  in  the  woods.  Well,  jiminety,  that  spark 
plug  sure  did  look  funny  lying  on  that  piece  of 
net  moss.  It  floated  right  near  my  shoulder  and 
I  lifted  it  off  and,  oh,  crinkums,  but  it  made  me 
think  of  Bridgeboro. 

It  was  almost  the  same  as  if  it  was  a  fellow  come 
to  rescue  me,  as  you  might  say.  It  was  just  be 
cause  it  didn't  belong  there,  I  guess.  Of  course, 
I  knew  it  couldn't  rescue  me,  but  it  reminded  me  of 
people  and  that  kind  of  cheered  me  up  a  little. 

Then  I  began  to  think  about  it.  I  remembered 
what  our  scoutmaster  said  about  a  fellow  that's 
drowning — that  he  can  think  as  long  as  his  head  is 
out  of  water.  And  this  was  like  drowning,  only 
slower.  I  was  wondering  how  that  spark  plug 
got  there.  It's  funny  how  you'll  think  about  little 
things  like  that  even  when  you're  dying. 

One  thing  sure,  no  automobile  ever  went 
through  there,  and  no  motorcycle  either.  Maybe 
a  fellow  in  an  airplane  might  have  dropped  it,  or 
maybe — 

Then,  all  of  a  sudden  I  began  to  laugh.  And 
while  I  was  laughing  some  water  flowed  into  my 
mouth.  But  I  didn't  care,  I  was  feeling  so  good. 
I  knew  all  about  the  whole  thing  now,  and  I  felt 


THE  TIGHT  PLACE  41 

like  kicking  myself  only  my  feet  were  down  in  all 
that  tangle  of  marsh.  But  what  cared  I,  yo  ho — 
and  a  couple  of  yee  hees. 

Oh,  I  was  some  wise  little  boy  scout  then,  and 
I  had  a  scout  smile  long  enough  to  tie  in  a  couple 
of  bow  knots.  That  spark  plug  was  thrown  out 
of  a  motor  boat.  I  could  see  that  the  spark  points 
were  bad  and  somebody  threw  it  away  because  it 
wouldn't  work  and  then  put  in  a  new  one.  And 
I  knew  that  already  the  tide  was  beginning  to  come 
up  and  that  pretty  soon  there  would  be  a  creek 
here  and  that  I  could  swim  in  it. 

Cracky,  you  can't  scare  me  when  it's  a  question 
of  swimming,  for  I  wasn't  brought  up  in  a  bath 
tub.  Many's  the  time  I  swam  across  Black  Lake. 
Water's  all  right,  but  swamps — good  night! 

Maybe  if  you  don't  live  near  meadow  lands 
you  won't  understand  how  it  was.  But  when  the 
tide  rises  twice  every  twenty-four  hours  (you 
learn  that  in  the  Fourth  Grade),  it  makes  creeks 
through  the  meadows  and  marshes.  Some  of  them 
are  deep  enough  for  small  motor  boats  even,  only 
you've  got  to  be  careful  not  to  stay  up  one  of  them 
too  long  or  you'll  get  stuck  till  the  next  day.  One 
time  that  happened  to  Ed  Sanders  that  owned 
the  Rascal  and  he  was  there  all  night,  and  he  al- 


4*  ROY  BLAKELEY 

most  died  from  poison  of  the  mosquitoes.  Any 
way  I  would  have  been  dead  before  night  when 
the  mosquitoes  come  out — that's  one  good  thing. 
I  don't  mean  it's  one  good  thing,  but  anyway  you 
know  what  I  mean. 

Pretty  soon  I  could  push  the  swamp  grass  out 
of  die  way  and  swim  a  little.  Oh,  cracky,  I  was 
thankful  for  that  tide !  I  knew  it  would  keep  on 
coming  when  it  once  started  'cause  the  tide  never 
goes  back  on  you.  Of  course  it  goes  back,  but  you 
know  what  I  mean.  Sometimes  if  you're  on  a  hike 
and  telling  time  by  the  sun  it'll  go  under  a  cloud, 
or  sometimes  if  you're  lost  and  following  the  stars, 
it'll  cloud  up  and  you  can't  see  them  any  more. 
And  crinkums,  a  trail  will  go  back  on  you  some 
times.  But  the  tide  is  sure.  It's  got  to  come  up, 
and  so  I  knew  it  was  coming  up  to  rescue  me  and  I 
knew  I  was  all  right  as  soon  as  I  saw  that  spark 
plug. 

Pee-wee  wanted  to  name  this  chapter  "Saved  By 
A  Spark  Plug"  or  "The  Hero  Plug,"  but  I  said 
it  sounded  silly.  Any  way  I'll  never  say  another 
word  against  the  tide.  Often  when  I  saw  motor 
boats  stuck  on  the  flats  I  could  hear  the  men  in 
them  saying  things  about  the  tide — oh,  gee,  you 
ought  to  have  heard  some  of  the  things  they  said. 


THE  TIGHT  PLACE  43 

But  I'll  never  say  anything,  anyway.  It  seemed 
kind  of,  you  know,  like  an  army  coming  to  rescue 
me,  slow  but  sure,  and  pretty  soon  I  was  swimming 
around,  and  oh,  didn't  I  feel  good! 

All  of  a  sudden  like,  there  was  a  little  river  there 

• 

and  it  kept  getting  deeper  and  wider  and  I  knew 
it  began  away  out  in  the  ocean  and  it  seemed  as  if 
it  was  picking  its  way  all  the  way  up  into  these 
marshes,  to  give  me  a  chance  to  do  what  every 
scout  knows  how  to  do — swim. 

Of  course  I  was  saved,  but  I  didn't  know  how 
far  I'd  have  to  swim,  only  I  was  pretty  sure  I 
wouldn't  have  to  die  now. 

I  guess  now  you'd  better  look  at  the  map  I 
made,  and  then  you'll  see  how  the  creek  came  in 
the  marshes  and  about  where  I  was,  when  it  began 
to  rise. 

Of  course  I  didn't  know  where  it  came  from  or 
where  it  went,  but  I  decided  to  swim  against  the 
tide  for  two  reasons.  First  I  was  afraid  to  go  the 
other  way  because  it  might  just  peter  out,  like  most 
of  those  meadow  creeks  do,  and  then  I'd  be  in  the 
marsh  again.  Oh,  boy,  safety  first.  I'd  had 
enough  of  marshes.  Besides  if  I  swam  the  other 
k  would  be  deeper  and  wider  and  I'd  be  more 


44  ROY  BLAKELEY 

likely  to  find  a  board  or  a  log  or  something  and 
pretty  soon  I  might  come  to  solid  shores. 

But  before  I  started  I  had  another  adventure. 
I  took  off  my  shoes  and  stockings  and  everything 
except  my  underclothes.  But  of  course,  that  wasn't 
the  adventure.  It  was  a  dandy  adventure,  but 
you  have  to  wait,  and  if  it  rains  to-morrow  so  we 
can't  go  trailing,  I'll  write  some  more.  I  think 
it'll  rain  to-morrow. 


CHAPTER  VII 

WEETONKA,  THE  TERRIBLE  CHIEF 

OF  course  you  can  tell  when  you  look  at  the 
/nap  where  the  creek  came  from:  It  came  from 
Dutch  Creek  and  Dutch  Creek  flows  into  the 
Bridgeboro  River,  and  Bridgeboro  River  rises  in 
the  northern  part  of  some  place  or  other  and  takes 
a — some  kind  of  a  course — and  flows  into  New 
[York  Bay.  Once  I  got  kept  in,  in  school,  for  not 
knowing  that.  But  how  should  I  know  where 
this  creek  went?  It  came — that  was  enough  for 
me.  I  should  worry  where  it  went. 

Before  I  started  to  swim  I  decided  I'd  go  under 
and  try  to  find  out  what  it  was  that  I'd  been 
standing  on.  Because  I  had  to  thank  it.  A  boy 
scout  is  supposed  to  be  grateful.  So  I  ducked  and 
groped  around  in  the  marshy  bottom  and  I  felt 
something  hard  with  a  point  to  it.  I  had  to  come 
up  for  air,  then  I  ducked  again  and  felt  around 
over  it  and  under  it.  I  joggled  it  with  both  my 
hands  and  it  budged — not  much  but  a  little.  Then 

45 


46  ROY  BLAKELEY 

I  came  up  for  air  and  went  down  and  gave  a  good 
tug  at  it. 

I  guess  it  was  just  kind  of  caught  in  the  mud 
and  weeds  for  after  I  pulled  some  of  these  away  a 
lot  of  bubbles  came  up,  and  then  I  got  hold  of  one 
end  of  the  thing  and  it  stuck  up  slantingways  out 
of  the  water  like  an  alligator's  mouth.  Oh,  gee, 
it  was  all  slimy  and  had  moss  growing  to  it  and  it 
was  black  and  hard.  I  was  crazy  to  find  out  what 
it  was  and  I  swam  around  the  end  of  it,  bobbing 
k  up  and  down.  Then  I  sat  on  it  and  rocked  it 
and  it  joggled.  When  I  straddled  it,  it  went  down 
with  me  and  when  I  jerked  it,  it  seemed  to  get  loose 
a  little.  The  end  that  was  sticking  up  wasn't  very 
big  around,  only  it  was  terribly  slippery.  Any 
way,  I  sat  on  it  and  tightened  my  legs  around  it 
just  like  a  fellow  does  with  a  balky  horse,  and 
then  I  began  jouncing  up  and  down  like  on  a  see 
saw. 

Pretty  soon  the  other  end  came  up  and,  oh,  boy, 
didn't  I  get  dumped  off  into  the  water.  It  looked 
like  a  slimy  old  log  floating.  I  gave  it  a  turn  and 
then — g-o-o-d  night — what  do  you  think  it  was? 
It  was  a  regular  Indian  dug-out. 

I  guess  maybe  it  was  a  hundred  years  old  and 
you  can  see  it  now,  if  you  ever  come  to  Bridge- 


1WEETONKA,  THE  TERRIBLE  CHIEF    47 

boro,  because  it's  in  the  Museum  of  our  Publk" 
Library  and  you'll  know  it  because  it's  got  "Pre 
sented  by  ist  Bridgeboro  Troop,  B.  S.  A.,"  on  it. 

I  guess  maybe  it  was  about  fifteen  feet  long  and 
as  soon  as  I  cut  into  it  with  my  scout  knife,  I  saw 
that  it  was  made  of  cedar  and  it  wasn't  rotten— 
not  so  much,  anyway.  Jiminies,  that's  one  good 
thing  about  cedar;  it  lasts  forever  under  water. 

Oh,  boy,  wasn't  I  excited.  I  swam  around  it 
washing  it  off  with  my  scout  jacket,  then  I  bailed 
the  little  dug  out  part  out  with  my  scout  hat.  It 
wasn't  so  black  when  I  got  it  all  cleaned  off.  It 
was  kind  of  chocolate  color  and  I  knew  it  must  be 
very  old,  because  cedar  turns  that  color  after  a 
long  time.  You  learn  that  in  Woodcraft. 

It  was  all  made  out  of  one  piece  and  the  place 
where  you  sit  was  just  hollowed  out — about  big 
enough  for  one  person. 

Then  I  got  inside  and  it  was  crankier  than  a 
racing  shell.  You  had  to  sit  up  straight  like  a  little 
tin  soldier  to  keep  it  from  tipping — it  was  one 
tippicanoe,  you  can  bet.  I  fell  out  and  had  to  rol! 
it  over  and  bail  it  out  two  or  three  times.  At 
last  I  got  the  hang  of  it  and  I  pushed  it  in  the 
marshes  a  little  way  so  it  wouldn't  drift  up  stream. 
There  was  a  regular  creek  there  now,  good  and 


48  ROY  BLAKELEY 

wide  and  deep,  and  the  water  was  coming  up  like 
a  parade. 

Then  I  pulled  a  lot  of  reeds  and  bound  them 
together  with  swamp  grass.  That  was  a  funny 
kind  of  a  paddle  I  guess,  but  it  was  better  than 
nothing  and  anyway  I  decided  to  wait  till  the  tide 
was  at  flood  and  then  paddle  back  with  it.  That 
would  be  a  cinch. 

So  then  I  sat  in  the  dug-out  and  just  waited  for 
the  tide  to  come  up.  The  dug-out  stayed  where 
it  was  on  account  of  being  pushed  in  among  the 
reeds  and  oh,  jiminety,  it  was  nice  sitting  there.  I 
thought  maybe  the  creek  would  empty  out  again 
into  Bridgeboro  River  and  I  could  tie  up  there  and 
go  home.  But  I  had  a  big  surprise  waiting  for  me, 
you  can  bet. 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  when 
I  started  on  that  crazy  trail  and  it  was  about  five 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  the  tide  began  to 
turn  and  go  back.  All  the  while  I  was  sitting  there 
waiting  I  thought  about  the  Indian  that  owned 
that  canoe.  Maybe  his  bones  were  down  under 
neath  there,  I  thought.  Ugh!  I'd  like  to  see 
them.  No,  I  wouldn't.  Maybe  he  was  on  his  way 
to  a  pow-wow,  hey? 

Well,   after  a  while  when  the  tide  turned  I 


WEETONKA,  THE  TERRIBLE  CHIEF    49 

started  paddling  down.  A  little  water  came 
through  a  couple  of  deep  cracks,  but  not  much  and 
I  sopped  it  up  with  my  hat.  But  oh,  jingoes,  I 
never  had  to  sit  up  so  straight  in  school  (not  even 
when  the  principal  came  through  the  class-room) 
as  I  did  in  that  cranky  old  log  with  a  hole  in  it. 
And  oh,  you  would  have  chucked  a  couple  of 
chuckles  if  you'd  seen  me  guiding  my  Indian  bark 
with  a  bunch  of  reeds.  Honest,  they  looked  like 
a  street  sweeper's  broom. 

After  a  while  the  creek  began  to  get  wider  and 
then  I  could  see  far  ahead  of  me  the  roof  of  a 
house.  Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  I  heard  somebody 
shout. 

"Don't  bother  to  plug  the  hole  up,  leave  it  the 
way  it  is,  so  if  the  water  comes  in,  it  can  get  out 
again." 

Then  I  heard  a  voice  shout,  "You're  crazy!" 
and  I  knew  it  was  the  fellows  jollying  Pee-wee 
Harris  and  they  were  talking  about  a  hole  in  the 
boat,  because  that  was  the  roof  I  saw.  So  then 
I  knew  I  was  coming  out  into  Dutch  Creek  right 
where  it  passes  Little  Valley. 

Oh,  boy!  Wasn't  I  excited?  Pretty  soon  I 
could  see  the  boat  and  some  of  the  fellows  on  it 
working  away,  sawing  and  hammering  and  jolly- 


50  ROY  BLAKELEY 

ing  each  other,  the  way  the  fellows  in  our  troop 
are  always  doing.  You  can  see  by  the  map  just 
how  I  got  to  where  they  were.  I  guess  I  must 
have  been  as  near  as  fifty  feet  before  Connie  Ben 
nett  threw  down  his  hammer  and  shouted. 

"Look  who's  here  I" 

Westy  Martin  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the 
deck  dangling  his  feet  and  eating  a  sandwich. 
Well,  you  ought  to  have  seen  them  all  stare. 

"What  in  the  dickens  do  you  call  this?'*  Wig 
iWeigand  hollered. 

But  I  didn't  say  a  word  till  I  got  right  close  to 
them,  then  I  gave  Westy  a  good  swat  with  my  reed 
paddle. 

"I  am  Weetonka,  the  famous  Indian  chief!"  I 
shouted,  "and  I  haven't  had  anything  to  eat  since 
eight  o'clock.  Give  me  that  sandwich  or  I'll  scalp 
you!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

RESOPEKITWAFTENLY 

THIS  chapter  and  the  next  one  are  mostly  about 
Wigley  Weigand,  but  we  usually  call  him  Wig- 
Wag  Weigand,  because  he's  a  cracker-jack  on 
wig-wag  signalling.  He's  good  on  all  the  dif 
ferent  kinds  of  signalling.  He's  a  Raven,  but  he 
can't  help  that,  because  there  wasn't  any  Silver 
Fox  Patrol  when  the  Raving  Ravens  started. 

The  Ravens  were  the — what  do  you  call  it — 
you  know  what  I  mean — nucleus  of  the  troop. 
That's  how  it  started.  There  are  about  half  a 
million  scouts  in  America  and  all  of  them  can't  be 
Silver  Foxes,  even  if  they'd  like  to. 

Wig  has  the  crossed  flags — that's  the  signalling 
badge;  and  the  fellows  say  he  can  make  the  sky 
talk.  Believe  me,  he  can  make  it  shout.  He  isn't 
so  bad  considering  that  he's  a  Raven  and  there's 
one  good  thing  about  him  anyway — and  that's 
that  his  mother  always  gives  us  cookies  and  things 
when  we  go  on  a  hike.  I  got  a  dandy  mother, 


52  ROY  BLAKELEY 

too,  and  maybe  you'll  see  how  much  I  think  about 
her,  kind  of,  in  the  next  chapter.  Anyway  I  have 
to  thank  Wig  Weigand,  that's  one  sure  thing. 

Now  maybe  you  think  I  did  a  good  stunt  in  that 
marsh,  but  a  scout  doesn't  get  credit  unless  he  uses 
his  brains  and  does  everything  all  right.  And 
that's  where  I  fell  down,  and  it  came  near  making 
a  lot  of  trouble,  believe  me. 

Many's  the  time  Tom  Slade  (he's  in  the  war 
now)  told  me  never  to  leave  a  scout  sign  after  it 
wasn't  any  more  use.  "Scratch  'em  out,"  he  said, 
"because  even  if  it  means  something  now,  it  might 
not  mean  anything  six  months  from  now."  Jiminy, 
that  fellow  has  some  brains.  He  said,  "Never  for 
get  to  take  down  a  sign  when  it's  no  use  any  more." 

Well,  when  I  found  I  wasn't  going  to  die  a  ter 
rible  death  (that's  what  Pee-wee  called  it)  I  didn't 
have  sense  enough  to  take  away  that  note  that  I 
stuck  on  the  reeds.  When  I  stuck  it  there  I 
reached  up  as  high  as  I  could,  so  even  when  the 
tide  was  high  up  there,  I  guess  it  didn't  reach  it. 
I  was  so  excited  to  find  I  could  get  away  that  I 
never  thought  anything  about  it.  And  when  I 
sailed  into  Little  Valley  in  my  Indian  canoe,  gee, 
I  had  forgotten  all  about  it. 

I  found  that  the  troop  had  done  a  good  day's 


RESOPEKITWAFTENLY  53 

work  caulking  the  hull  up  and  slapping  a  couple  of 
coats  of  copper  paint  on  it,  while  the  tide  was  out. 
So  then  we  decided  that  as  long  as  the  tide  was  go 
ing  down,  we'd  float  her  down  with  it  to  the 
Bridgeboro  River  and  then  wait  for  the  up  tide  to 
float  her  upstream  to  Bridgeboro.  We  decided 
that  we'd  rather  fix  her  up  in  Bridgeboro.  So  you 
see  that  this  chapter  is  about  the  tide,  too.  Mr. 
Ellsworth  and  Mr.  Domicile  both  told  me  that  I 
must  have  plenty  of  movement  in  my  story,  so  I 
guess  the  tide's  a  good  character  for  a  story,  be 
cause  it's  always  moving. 

Well,  you  ought  to  have  seen  those  fellows 
when  I  sailed  in  shouting  that  I  was  Weetonka, 
the  famous  Indian  chief.  Doc  Carson  dropped 
his  paint  brush  on  Connie  Bennett  and  he  was 
splashed  all  over  with  copper  paint — good  night ! 

"Where  did  you  get  that  thing,"  Pee-wee 
shouted,  "it  looks  like  a  horse's  trough." 

"You  have  to  part  your  hair  in  the  middle  to 
ride  in  it,  I  can  tell  you  that,"  I  told  him. 

"Where  were  you  all  the  time  ?"  he  said. 

"I  was  captured  by  a  band  of  Apaches,"  I  said. 

"What  kind  of  a  band?"  Pee-wee  yelled. 

"A  brass  band,"  I  told  him;  "a  brass  band  of 
Apaches." 


[54  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"You  make  me  sick!"  he  said,  kind  of  disgusted 

"They  took  me  to  their  village  and  were  going 
to  burn  me  at  the  stake,  only  the  butcher  didn't 
bring  it,  then  they  decided  they'd  chop  me  to 
pieces  only  the  butcher  didn't  bring  the  chops — " 

Oh,  boy!  you  should  have  seen  that  kid.  He 
fired  a  wet  bailing  sponge  at  me  and  I  dodged  it 
and  it  hit  one  of  his  own  patrol — kerflop ! 

I  guess  you'll  think  all  us  fellows  are  crazy, 
especially  me.  I  should  worry.  I  told  them  I 
escaped  in  the  canoe  and  all  that  kind  of  stuff,  but 
at  last  I  told  them  the  real  story  and  you  can  bet 
they  were  glad  I  was  saved.  They  all  said  I  had  a 
narrow  escape,  and  I  admit  it  was  only  about  an 
inch  wide. 

Now,  I  have  to  tell  you  about  how  we  floated 
the  house-boat  down  to  Bridgeboro  River,  and 
maybe  you'd  better  look  at  the  map,  hey?  Oh, 
but  first  I  want  to  tell  you  about  the  name  we  gave 
it.  Some  name !  We  christened  it  with  a  bottle 
of  mosquito  dope.  It's  regular  name  was  all 
rubbed  off,  so  we  decided  we'd  vote  on  a  new 
name. 

This  is  the  way  we  fixed  it.  Each  patrol  thought 
of  a  name  and  then  we  mixed  the  three  names  up 


RESOPEKITWAFTENLY  55, 

and  made  one  name  out  of  them.    Then  you  just 
add  a  little  sugar  and  serve. 

The  Ravens  voted  the  name  Sprite,  the  Elks 
voted  the  name  Fly  and  the  Silver  Foxes  voted 
the  name  Weetonka,  on  account  of  me.  Then  we 
wrote  all  these  letters  down  and  mixed  them  all 
up  and  arranged  them  every  which  way,  till  we 
got  this  name: 

RESOPEKITWAFTENLY 

Oh,  boy,  some  laugh  we  had  over  that  name. 
We  were  all  sitting  around  in  the  two  cabin 
rooms  and  believe  me,  it  was  some  giggling  match. 

"It  sounds  like  a  Bolsheviki  name,"  Westy 
Martin  said. 

".You  wait  till  the  infernal  revenue  people  get 
that  name,"  I  said,  "it'll  knock  'em  out."  Because, 
of  course,  I  knew  we'd  have  to  send  the  name  to 
the  infernal  revenue  people — I  mean  internal  or 
eternal  or  whatever  you  call  it — because  $ou  have 
to  do  that  to  get  your  license  number. 

"It's  a  good  name,"  I  said,  "you  don't  see  it 
every  day." 

"Thank  goodness  for  that,"  Doc  Carson  said, 
"it's  as  long  as  a  spelling  lesson  or  Pee-wee's 
tongue." 


56  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"It'll  be  a  pretty  expensive  name;  it'll  take  a 
lot  of  paint,"  Brick  Warner  said. 

"We  should  worry,""  I  said. 

So  then  I  made  some  coffee,  because  I'm  the 
troop  cook,  and  we  thought  it  was  best  to  eat 
before  we  started.  That  bunch  is  always  hungry. 
They  said  it  was  punk  coffee,  but  that  was  be 
cause  they  didn't  bring  enough  to  go  around. 

"  Don't  laugh  at  the  coffee,"  I  told  them,  "you 
may  be  old  and  weak  yourselves  some  day."  I 
made  some  flapjacks,  too,  and  then  we  started. 

We  didn't  have  to  do  much  work  because  the 
ebb  was  running  good  and  strong,  and  we  just 
sat  around  the  deck  with  our  feet  dangling  over, 
and  pushed  her  off  with  our  scout  staffs  whenever 
she  ran  against  the  shores.  She  didn't  keep  head 
on,  but  that  was  no  matter  as  long  as  she  went,  and 
pretty  soon  (I  guess  it  must  have  been  about 
seven  o'clock)  we  went  waltzing  into  Bridgeboro 
River. 

And  then  was  when  we  made  a  crazy  mistake. 
Just  for  a  minute  we  forgot  that  the  tide  would 
be  running  down  the  river  instead  of  up.  If  we 
had  only  remembered  that,  three  or  four  of  us 
could  have  gone  ashore  with  a  rope  and  tied  her 
in  the  channel,  which  ran  along  the  near  shore. 


RESOPEKITWAFTENLY  57 

Then  all  we  would  have  had  to  cio  would  have 
been  to  sit  around  and  wait  for  it  to  turn,  so  we 
could  drift  up  to  Bridgeboro  with  it. 

But  just  when  we  were  floating  out  of  die 
creek,  we  forgot  all  about  what  the  tide  would 
do  to  us,  unless  we  were  on  the  job  and  sure 
enough  it  caught  us  and  sent  us  whirling  around 
and  away  over  on  to  the  flats. 

"Good  night!"  I  said  when  I  heard  her  scrape. 

"We  should  have  had  sense  enough  to  know  the 
tide  is  stronger  here  than  in  the  creek,"  they  all 
said. 

"What's  the  difference?"  Dorry  Benton  said, 
"we're  stuck  on  the  flats,  that's  all.  Now  we 
don't  have  to  bother  to  tie  her.  When  the  tide 
changes,  we'll  float  off  and  go  on  upstream  all 
right.  We're  just  as  well  off  as  if  we  were  tied 
up  in  the  channel." 

Well,  I  guess  he  was  right  except  for  what 
happened  pretty  soon.  So  we  settled  down  to 
wait  for  the  tide  to  go  down  and  change.  After 
a  while  we  began  to  see  the  flats  all  around  us 
and  there  wasn't  any  water  near  us  at  all — only 
the  water  in  the  channel  away  over  near  the  west 
shore.  We  were  high  and  dry  and  there  wasn't 
any  way  for  a  fellow  to  get  away  from  where  we 


(58  ROY  BLAKELEY 

were,  because  he  couldn't  swim  and  he'd  only 
sink  in  the  mud,  if  he  tried  to  walk  it. 

Well,  while  we  were  sitting  around  trying  to 
figure  out  how  long  it  would  be  before  the  water 
would  go  down  and  then  come  up  enough  to  carry 
us  off,  Doc  Carson  said,  "Listen !"  and  we  heard 
the  chug  of  a  motor  boat  quite  a  long  way  off. 
It  was  getting  dark  good  and  fast  now,  and  there 
was  a  pretty  wide  stretch  of  flats  between  us  and 
the  channel.  Pretty  soon  we  could  hear  voices — 
all  thin,  sort  of,  as  if  they  came  from  a  long  way 
off.  That's  the  way  it  is  on  the  water. 

"She's  coming  down  Dutch  Creek,"  one  of  the 
ifellows  said.  After  a  while  another  fellow  said 
fee  thought  it  was  Jake  Holden.  Then  another 
one  said  it  wasn't. 

"Sure  it  is,"  Connie  Bennett  said,  "listen." 

Then  as  plain  as  day  I  could  hear  the  words 
"crab  running,"  and  then  in  a  minute  something 
about  "bad  news."  Pretty  soon,  through  the 
steady  chugging  I  could  hear  a  voice  say  very  plain, 
"I'm  glad  it  doesn't  have  to  be  me  to  tell  her." 

We  couldn't  make  them  out  because  it  was  get 
ting  too  dark,  but  it  was  Jake  Holden,  the  fisher 
man,  all  right.  Pretty  soon  the  engine  began 
chugging  double,  sort  of,  and  I  knew  they  were 


RESOPEKITWAFTENLY  591 

going  around  the  corner  into  Bridgeboro  River, 
because  there's  a  steep  shore  there,  and  it  made 
an  echo. 

I  was  a  chump  not  to  realize  what  they  were 
talking  about,  but  they  had  chugged  around  into 
Bridgehoro  River  and  were  heading  upstream 
before  it  popped  into  my  thick  head.  And  even 
then  iv  was  on  account  of  something  else  they  said, 
as  the  chugging  grew  fainter  all  the  time.  It 
seemed  as  if  I  heard  it  while  I  was  dreaming,  as 
you  might  say.  I  knew  they  were  pretty  far  up 
stream  by  now,  but  the  voice  was  awful  clear, 
like  voices  always  sound  across  the  water,  es 
pecially  in  the  night. 

"He  was  a  nice  little  fellow,"  that's  what  if| 
said,  "but  he  had  a  right  to  keep  out  of  that  place." 

Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  I  knew.  They  were 
talking  about  me.  They  must  have  been  up  that 
creek  fishing  and  found  that  note  of  mine.  And 
they  were  going  to  tell  my  people  as  soon  as  they 
got  home. 

"Holler  to  them,  fellows!"  I  said;  "quick — all 
together." 

I  guess  the  fellows  must  have  thought  I  was 
crazy,  but  they  hollered  for  all  they  were  worth. 
But  it  was  no  use,  for  nobody  answered.  I  guess 


6o  ROY  BLAKELET 

the  wind  must  have  been  blowing  our  way  or  some* 
thing — anyway,  they  didn't  pay  any  attention. 
Then  pretty  soon  I  couldn't  hear  the  chugging 
any  more  at  all. 

Oh,  jiminies,  but  I  felt  bad.  Maybe  you  think 
that  as  long  as  I  escaped  and  would  get  home  all 
right  I  ought  to  be  satisfied.  But  that's  because 
you  don't  know  anything  about  my  mother.  When 
my  brother  died  I  saw  how  she  acted  and  the 
doctor  said  she  had  to  stay  in  bed  two  or  three 
days  on  account  of  her  heart  being  not  just  right. 
Maybe  he  thought  it  would  stop,  I  guess.  And,, 
gee,  I  didn't  want  her  to  hear  any  bad  news, 
even  if  it  wasn't  true.  'Cause  I  knew  just  how? 
she'd  act — I  could  just  see  her,  sort  of.  I  guess 
I  was  kind  of  thinking  about  it  and  how  it  would 
be  when  Jake  Holden  went  to  the  house,  and  how 
she'd  have  to  wait  five  or  six  hours,  maybe  till 
morning,  before  she  saw  me,  when  all  of  a  sudden 
I  heard  Will  Dawson  of  my  patrol  say,  "What's 
the  matter,  Blakey?" — he  always  calls  me  Blakey. 

But  I  didn't  pay  any  attention  to  him,  because  I 
couldn't  speak — exactly.  I  didn't  seem  to  see  any 
of  the  troop,  I  only  just  saw  my  mother  standing, 
maybe  kind  of  unsteady  like,  and  listening  to  Jake 
Holden. 


RESOPEKITWAFTENLY  61 

Then  all  of  a  sudden  I  walked  straight  over 
to  where  the  Ravens  were  all  sitting  on  the  cabin 
roof.  And  I  spoke  to  Wigley  Wig-wag  Weigand. 
I  said — this  is  just  what  I  said — I  said,  "Wig,  I 
always  claimed  Ralph  Warner  was  the  best  signal 
ler  in  the  troop  and  maybe  you'll  remember  I  was 
mad  when  you  got  the  badge.  But  now  I  ain't 
mad,  and  I  ain't  jealous,  only  I  don't  want  those 
men  to  go  and  tell  my  mother  I'm  dead — I — I 
don't.  I  forgot  to  take  the  note  away  and  they're 
going  to  tell  her  and  she — she  has — her  heart 
isn't  very  strong  like.  There's  only  one  fellow  in 
the  troop  can  do  it — it's  you.  You  can  do  it. 
You  can  do  anything,  signalling.  I've  got  to  admit 
it  now,  when  I  need  you.  You're  a  Raven,  but 
I  want  you  to  signal,  quick.  They'll  see  it  in  town. 
You're  the  only  fellow  can  do  it — you  are.  I  got 
to  admit  it." 

He  didn't  say  much  because  he  isn't  much  on 
But  he  jumped  down  and  he  just  said,  "I'll  fix  it.'* 
talking;.  He's  always  studying  the  Handbook. 

And  I  knew  he  would. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  LAST  LETTER 

THEN  Elmer  Sawyer  (he's  a  Raven)  came  up 
to  me  and  said,  "He'll  do  it,  Roy;  don't  worry. 
And  they'll  get  it  too,  because  everybody  in  town 
is  out  these  nights  looking  at  the  searchlights  down 
the  Hudson." 

That  was  one  lucky  thing.  A  lot  of  cruisers 
and  torpedo  boats  were  down  in  the  harbor  and 
up  the  Hudson,  and  we  could  see  their  search 
lights  even  in  Bridgeboro. 

Wig  looked  all  around  the  cabin  as  if  he  was 
hunting  for  something  and  then  he  said,  "No 
searchlight,  I  suppose."  If  we  had  only  had  a 
searchlight  it  would  have  been  easy,  but  there 
wasn't  any  on  board. 

"Don't  you  care,"  Pee-wee  said  to  me,  "he'll 
think  of  a  way."  Oh,  jiminy,  but  he  was  proud  of 
Wig.  I  could  see  that  Wig  was  thinking  and  for 
just  a  few  seconds  it  seemed  as  if  he  couldn't 
make  up  his  mind  what  to  do. 

"Can  you  smudge  it?"  Connie  Bennett  asked. 
62 


THE  LAST  LETTER  63 

"Guess  so,"  he  said,  "you  fellows  rip  open  the 
ends  of  these  cushions,  but  don't  tear  the  covering 
any,  and  somebody  get  the  stove  cleared  out; 
see  if  there's  a  damper  in  the  pipe,  and  see  il 
there's  any  bilge  under  the  flooring.  It'll  take 
those  fellows  about  twenty  minutes  to  chug  up  to 
Bridgeboro." 

Well,  in  two  seconds  he  had  us  all  flying  every 
which  way,  Elks,  Silver  Foxes  and  all. 

We  didn't  have  to  open  more  than  one  of  the 
seat  cushions  and,  lucky  thing,  we  found  it  full  ol 
excelsior.  That  makes  a  good  smudge. 

"Only  you've  got  to  treat  it,"  Wig  said. 

"Treat  it!"  I  said;  "I'll  treat  it  to  all  the  ice 
cream  it  can  eat,  if  it'll  only  help  you  to  send  the 
message."  I  was  feeling  good  now. 

"Take  it  down  in  the  bilge  and  treat  it,"  he 
said,  very  sober  like,  to  one  of  his  patrol. 

"Don't  let  it  spend  a  cent,"  I  called  after  hirm 
But  I  didn't  go  because  I  could  see  he  would  rather 
have  Ravens  help  him.  You  can't  blame  him  for 
that.  In  about  half  a  minute  they  came  upstairs 
and  they  had  a  lot  of  the  excelsior  all  damp,  but 
not  exactly  wet,  and  I  don't  know  how  they  got  it 
that  way,  except  I  know  there  was  bilge  water 


r64  ROY  BLAKELEY 

down  under  the  flooring.  They're  a  lot  of  cracker« 
jacks  on  signalling,  I'll  say  that  much  for  them. 

There  was  a  stove  in  the  main  cabin  with  a 
stovepipe  going  straight  up  through  the  roof  like 
a  smoke  stack  and  there  was  a  damper  in  it  right 
near  the  stove. 

"Get  a  handbook  or  a  pocket  code,'*  somebody 
said,  "so  he'll  have  the  signs  right  near  him." 

"He  doesn't  need  any  signs,"  Pee-wee  shouted, 
disgusted  like. 

Well,  this  is  the  way  Wig  did  it,  and  after  he 
got  started,  most  of  us  went  up  on  the  roof  to 
see  if  we  could  read  it.  But  that's  mighty  hard 
to  do  when  you're  right  underneath  it. 

By  the  time  the  fellows  came  upstairs  with 
the  damp  excelsior  (that's  what  they  call  the 
smudge)  Wig  had  a  good  fire  started  in  the  stove. 

"Lay  that  stuff  down  here,"  he  said;  then  he 
said  to  me,  "What  do  you  want  to  say?" 

"Just  say  I'm  safe,  Wig,"  I  told  him.  "Say 
for  them  not  to  pay  any  attention  to  what  they 
hear." 

I  only  waited  long  enough  for  him  to  get 
started,  just  so  as  to  see  how  he  did  it,  then  I 
went  up  on  the  roof  and  watched  the  long  black 


THE  LAST  LETTER  651 

smoke  column.  Cracky,  I  was  glad  it  was  moon* 
light,  that's  one  sure  thing. 

As  soon  as  he  had  a  good  fire  started  he  stuffed 
some  of  the  damp  excelsior  in  and  shut  the  door, 
and  told  Artie  Van  Arlen  (he's  their  patrol 
leader)  to  hold  a  rag  over  the  crack  in  the  door, 
because  the  black  smoke  was  pouring  out  that  way, 
especially  because  the  damper  in  the  pipe  was  shut* 

I  didn't  stay  there  long,  because  the  smoke  was 
too  thick  for  me  and  when  I  saw  Artie  bind  a  wet 
rag  over  Wig's  eyes  and  mouth,  I  knew  then  it 
was  going  to  be  mighty  bad  in  that  little  cabin. 

"Have  another  ready,"  I  heard  him  say;  "better 
have  three  or  four  of  them." 

Then  he  put  his  hand  on  the  damper  in  the  pipe 
and  turned  it  and  then  the  smoke  in  the  cabin 
wasn't  so  bad.  He  just  turned  it  around  quick  and 
kept  turning  it  around  and  that  let  little  puffs  of 
smoke  through,  and  I  heard  the  fellows  up  on  the 
roof  shouting,  "Hurrah !"  so  I  knew  it  was  work 
ing  all  right.  He  sent  up  a  lot  of  little  puffs  like 
that,  just  so  as  to  draw  attention,  and  he  kept  doing 
it  so  long  I  got  impatient. 

"No  use  talking  till  you  know  somebody's 
listening,"  he  said,  kind  of  pleasant  like  to  me.  I 
guess  maybe  he  never  liked  me  very  much,  because 


66  ROY  BLAKELEY 

I  didn't  want  that  badge  to  get  into  their  patrol^ 
and  anyway  he's  kind  of  sober,  sort  of,  and  maybe 
he  thought  I  had  too  much  nonsense.  But,  oh, 
boy,  I  was  strong  for  him  now.  And  I  could  see 
how  he  began  to  cough  and  I  was  worried. 

Then  he  groped  around  to  get  hold  of  the 
damper,  for  he  was  blindfolded  and  the  smoke  in 
there  was  getting  thicker  and  thicker.  Then  he 
gave  it  a  quick  turn,  then  waited  a  few  seconds, 
then  held  it  lengthwise  with  the  pipe  for  about 
twenty  seconds. 

R  I  said  to  myself. 

Then  he  opened  the  damper  three  times,  each 
about  twenty  seconds,  and  I  could  hear  the  fellows 
tip  on  the  roof  shouting. 

"O!  It's  a  good  O!  Bully  for  Wig  Weigand!" 

"Give  me  another  towel,  quick,"  he  said  to 
Artie.  "Is  the  window  open?  You  better  go  up, 
Kid." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  ever  called  me  kid  and  he 
had  to  cough  when  he  said  it.  But  I  just  couldn't 
move.  There  was  something  in  my  throat  and 
my  eyes  that  wasn't  smoke,  and  I  said,  "I  can  stand 
it  if  you  can — Wig." 

"Go  on  up,  kid,"  he  said,  "we've — got — got— » 


THE  LAST  LETTER  67 

her — talking — now,"  and  he  coughed  and  choked. 

"Go  on  up,  Roy,"  Artie  Van  Arlen  said. 

Up  on  the  roof  all  the  fellows  were  sitting 
around  the  edge  with  their  legs  over,  watching 
the  black  column  in  the  sky,  and  shouting  when  they 
read  the  letters.  But  I  was  thinking  about  those 
fellows  down  in  that  cabin  filled  with  smoke  and 
how  they  were  doing  that  all  on  account  of  me. 

"Pretty  smoky  down  there,"  one  of  the  Elks 
said  to  me. 

"You  said  something,"  I  told  him. 

"He's  marking  up  the  sky  all  right,  if  he  can 
only  stick  it  out,"  another  fellow  said.  "Who's 
down  there  with  him?" 

"Artie,"  I  said. 

"They'll  stick  it  out,  all  right,"  Westy  Martin 
said;  "it's  easier  for  Artie,  he  can  stay  near  the 
window." 

"Bully  for  you,  Wig,  old  boy!"  somebody 
shouted,  just  as  the  E  in  SAFE  shot  up.  And  I 
knew  what  it  meant — it  meant  that  the  words  Roy 
is  safe  had  been  printed  in  great  big  black  letters 
across  the  sky. 

Then  it  came  faster  and  faster  and  it  seemed 
as  if  he  must  be  turning  that  damper  like  a  tele 
graph  operator  moves  his  key.  "Don't  worry,," 


68  ROYj  BLAKELEY, 

it  said,  "reports  false,"  "Roy  Blakeley  safe," 
"Roy  safe,"  "Blakeley  alive."  He  said  it  all 
kinds  of  different  ways. 

Once  Artie  came  up  coughing  and  choking  and 
watched  a  few  seconds  to  see  if  the  wind  was 
blowing  the  smoke  away  as  fast  as  the  signs  were 
made,  because  that  was  important. 

"It's  lucky  we  have  that  wind,"  he  said,  and 
then  went  down  again  in  a  hurry. 

Pretty  soon  we  could  see  some  searchlights  far 
away  and  I  guess  they  were  on  the  ships.  But 
ours  was  different  and  nearer  to  Bridgeboro,  and 
people  would  be  sure  to  see  it,  only  maybe  they 
wouldn't  understand  it  and  that's  what  made  me 
worry.  I'm  good  on  reading  smudge  signals,  even 
though  I  never  sent  many  and  I  never  have  to  have 
the  Handbook  when  I  read  the  code,  that's  one 
thing.  And  I  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  all 
the  talking  and  yelling,  only  kept  my  eyes  up  in 
the  sky,  watching  that  long  smoky  column.  It  beat 
any  searchlight  you  ever  saw.  "Roy  alive" — "Roy 
alive"  it  kept  saying  and  sometimes  "don't  worry." 
I  didn't  see  how  any  fellow  could  manage  a  smudge 
and  send  it  so  fast  and  keep  his  spaces.  The  last 
word  before  it  stopped  was  SAFE,  or  that's  what  it 
was  meant  to  be,  only  the  short  flash  for  E  didn't 


THE  LAST  LETTER  69 

come.  The  fellows  all  began  shouting  when  there 
wasn't  any  more,  and  I  heard  Pee-wee  shout  down 
stairs,  "Aren't  you  going  to  put  the  name  of  the 
boat?" 

"Do  you  want  him  to  crack  the  sky  open?"  I 
heard  a  fellow  say,  and  they  all  laughed. 

But  I  remembered  how  that  last  E  didn't  come 
and  I  started  down  the  ladder  for  all  I  was  worth. 
I  scrambled  around  the  narrow  part  of  the  deck  to 
the  window  und  called,  but  nobody  answered.  The 
smoke  was  coming  out  thick. 

"Wig,"  I  said,  "are  you  there?  Are  you  all 
right?  Artie,  where  are  you?" 

I  had  to  turn  away  my  face  on  account  of  the 
smoke.  I  pulled  off  my  scout  scarf  and  tied  it  over 
my  mouth,  so  that  it  covered  my  ears  too.  Then 
I  looked  in  and  down  low,  because  I  knew  that  the 
smoke  wouldn't  be  so  thick  near  the  floor.  And  I 
saw  Wig  Weigand  lying  there  right  under  the 
stove  pipe  and  his  hand  was  reaching  up  holding 
the  damper,  and  his  hand  was  all  white  like  and 
his  eyes  were  wide  open  and  staring.  Then  I 
shouted  for  all  I  was  worth. 

"Doc I  come  down — hurry!  Send  Doc  Carson 
down,  Wig  Weigand  is  dead — he's  suffocated." 


THE  RAVENS 

Doc  CARSON  is  a  Raven  and  he's  our  First  Aid 
Scout.  He  always  has  some  things  with  him,  be« 
cause  that's  our  rule.  But  you  can  bet  I  didn't 
wait  for  him.  And  I  didn't  care  if  I  was  killed  or 
not,  I  didn't,  if  Wig  Weigand  was  killed. 

So  I  jumped  right  through  the  window  and  the 
smoke  got  into  my  eyes  and  made  my  ears  ring, 
but  I  didn't  care.  I  could  taste  it  all  thick,  too, 
but  I  didn't  care.  That  was  the  smoke  that  had 
to  do  what  Wigley  Weigand  told  it  to,  and  he 
scribbled  all  over  the  sky  with  it,  that's  what  he 
did,  and  now  it  had  turned  around  and  killed  him. 

I  knew  that  up  to  six  or  seven  inches  from  the 
floor  there  is  never  much  smoke  and  I  knew  he 
must  have  lain  down  low  when  he  was  almost  un 
conscious  and  worked  that  damper.  And  those 
fellows  up  there  had  been  laughing  and  cheering 
all  the  while,  when  he  was  lying  there  like  that. 

I  didn't  see  Artie  anywhere  and  there  wasn't 
any  sound.  I  lay  down  flat  and  crawled  over  to 


THE  RAVENS  71 

Wig  and  you  bet  I  worked  quick.  I  tied  his  hands 
together  with  my  scout  scarf — it  was  the  Silver 
Fox  scarf — and  I  tied  the  scarf  around  my  neck. 

"Wig,"  I  said,  but  he  didn't  speak  and  his  legs 
and  his  neck  hung  loose,  sort  of,  and  it  kind  oi 
scared  me.  Then  I  crawled  to  the  window,  be 
cause  I  couldn't  see  the  door,  dragging  him  after 
me.  Then  I  did  something  I  never  thought  I  could 
do,  but  maybe  you've  noticed  you  can  do  most  any 
thing  when  you  have  to.  I  just  stood  up,  then  fell 
down  again,  coughing  and  choking,  and  my  ears 
were  buzzing  all  the  time.  But  I  didn't  care,  I  just 
stood  up  again  with  him  hanging  to  me,  and  I 
grabbed  the  window  sill  and  dragged  him  half  way 
across  it  and  with  his  head  outside,  and  then  I 
staggered  and  tried  to  grab  something  and  my 
eyes  were  stinging  and,  oh,  I  don't  know,  all  of  a 
sudden  my  head  knocked  and  I  didn't  know  any 
more. 

Mr.  Ellsworth  says  that  Doc  ought  to  write  the 
rest  of  this  chapter,  but  he  wouldn't,  and  it's  just 
like  him.  The  next  thing  I  knew  I  was  sitting  on 
the  lowest  step  and  Connie  Bennet  was  holding  my 
head.  "You're  all  right,"  he  said,  "but  you  got 
a  good  bump.  You  were  only  there  a  few  seo 
onds." 


72  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"Did  you  pull  me  out?"  I  said.  "Where'* 
iWig?" 

"Doc  brought  him  around,"  he  said,  "he  go* 
him  breathing,  then  it  was  easy.  We  ean't  find 
Artie." 

Maybe  it  was  funny,  but  just  then  I  didn't  seem 
to  be  thinking  about  Artie.  I  felt  my  head  and 
found  I  had  a  big  bump  on  it.  "I  should  worry 
about  that,"  I  said.  "Where's  Wig?" 

Then  I  got  up  and  went  around  the  cabin  to 
the  forward  deck  and  mere  were  all  the  fellows 
and  Wig  sitting  up  and  Doc  Carson  holding  him 
and  moving  him,  so  as  to  keep  him  breathing — 
scout  fashion. 

"All  righto,  kid,"  Doc  said,  kind  of  pleasant» 
"you're  a  brick." 

I  always  thought  that  I  was  as  big  as  he  was, 
but  he  called  me  kid,  and  I  didn't  care.  Anyway, 
I  couldn't  see  him  very  good,  I  admit  that.  Be< 
cause — oh,  well,  maybe  you  can  understand. 

"Artie's  missing,"  he  said.  "You  didn't  see  any 
thing  of  him  in  there  ?" 

"I  couldn't  see  at  all,  hardly,"  I  told  him. 

Then  Wig  turned  his  head  and  looked  at  me 
and  he  was  all  white  and  weak  looking,  especially 


THE  RAVENS  73 

when  he  smiled.  And  he  had  the  remains  of  my 
Silver  Fox  scarf,  all  torn,  around  his  neck. 

"All  right?"  he  said  very  low. 

But  I  just  couldn't  speak  to  him.  I  don't  know 
what  made  me  do  it,  but  I  went  up  to  him  and  he 
looked  at  the  bump  on  my  forehead  and  said, 
"Hurt?" 

"You  should  worry  about  that,"  I  told  him. 
Then  I  kind  of  fixed  the  Silver  Fox  scarf  better, 
4o  that  it  was  around  his  neck  and  I  tied  it  in  the 
Silver  Fox  knot.  "Your  fellows  won't  mind  if  you 
Wear  it  a  little  'while,"  I  said,  and  then  I  unfastened 
his  own  scarf,  yellow  and  brown,  and  tied  it  around 
iiy  neck.  "There's  no  fellow  can  get  this  away 
from  me  to-night,"  I  said,  "I'm  going  to  wear  the 
Raven  scarf — I  am." 

Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  I  noticed  that  Doc  had 
gone  away  and  I  was  holding  his  head  up  alone. 
So  I  let  it  down  on  the  cushion  very  easy  and  I 
Baw  we  were  all  alone.  Maybe  you  won't 
understand  and  it's  hard  to  tell  you.  But  I  didn't 
say  anything;  I  just  stayed  there  and  rubbed  his 
forehead. 

"We  told  her,"  he  said,  kind  of  as  if  he  was 
tyeak  and  tired. 

"Yop,"  I  said,  "you  told  her," 


7.4  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"Somebody'll  get  it — maybe,"  he  said. 

"I  ain't  thinking  about  that,"  I  said,  "I'm  only 
thinking  about  how  you  did  it.  I — I  don't  want 
the  signalling  badge  in  my  patrol  now,  honest  I 
don't,  Wig.  I  want  it  to  stay  where  it  belongs. 
And  I  want  there  to  be  only  just  the  one  in  the 
troop.  I  got  mad  first.  That's  because  I'm  always 
getting  mad,  I  guess.  But  there  will  never  be 
any  signalling  badge  in  my  patrol,  Wig.  That's 
going  to  be  the  rule." 

"There'll  be  a  Gold  Cross  though,"  he  said. 
And  then  he  shut  his  eyes. 

But  I  stayed  right  there — just  because — oh,  I 
don't  know,  just  because  I  wanted  to  stay  right 
there.  You  can't  always  tell  why  you  want  to  do 
a  thing. 


CHAPTER  XI 

LOST 

Now  when  Wig  said  that  about  the  Gold  Cross 
I  thought  it  was  just  because  he  was  weak  and 
didn't  know  what  he  was  saying.  Because,  maybe 
you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  that  the  Gold  Cross 
isn't  so  easy  to  get.  Only  one  fellow  in  our  troop 
ever  got  it,  and  that  was  Tom  Slade.  Maybe  I 
took  a  chance  when  I  went  into  all  that  smoke, 
I'm  not  saying  I  didn't,  but  if  I  got  anything  at  all, 
it  would  be  the  Bronze  Medal,  I  guess,  but  nix  on 
the  Gold  Cross.  You  don't  find  gold  crosses  grow 
ing  around  on  every  bush,  you  can  bet.  Anyway, 
I  didn't  want  any  honor  medal  because  I  knew  Wig 
wouldn't  get  one  (because  they're  only  for  life- 
saving)  and,  gee,  if  he  didn't  deserve  one,  I'm  sure 
I  didn't. 

Anyway  this  wasn't  any  time  to  be  thinking 
about  medals,  because  Artie  Van  Arlan  was  miss 
ing  and  that  was  the  principal  thing  we  had  to 
think  about.  He  wasn't  on  the  house-boat,  that 
was  one  sure  thing,  because  we  looked  everywhere 

75 


76  ROY  BLAKELEY 

and  couldn't  find  iim.  Wig  said  he  remembered 
somebody  speaking  to  him  when  he  was  lying 
there,  and  he  guessed  it  must  have  been  Artie.  He 
didn't  know  what  he  said  though. 

The  fellows  were  all  excited  about  it,  especially 
because  the  boat  was  just  beginning  to  float,  and 
we  didn't  know  whether  we'd  better  anchor  there 
and  wait  to  see  if  he  turned  up.  Two  of  the  fel 
lows  climbed  down  and  swam  around  and  the  rest 
kept  calling.  It  wasn't  very  deep  yet  and  they 
could  even  feel  around  the  flats,  but  they  couldn't 
find  him  anywhere. 

I  went  around  and  looked  at  the  window  and 
even  then  the  cabin  was  filled  with  smoke,  but  not 
so  thick.  Believe  me,  I  wished  that  Tom  Slade 
was  there  then,  because  he's  great  on  deducing  and 
finding  clues  and  all  like  that.  That's  why  we 
always  called  him  Sherlock  Nobody  Holmes.  Any 
way,  I  couldn't  make  out  what  happened.  Artie 
might  have  staggered  up  against  the  window  to 
get  air,  but  I  didn't  see  how  he  could  fall  out,  and 
if  he  was  able  to  climb  out  then  why  didn't  he 
come  up  where  the  rest  of  us  were? 

I  couldn't  make  anything  out  of  it;  all  I  knew: 
was  he  was  gone.  I  knew  he  must  have  been 


LOST  77 

drowned  and  his  body  been  carried  up  by  the  tide, 
which  was  running  up  strong  now. 

Well,  you  can  bet  we  didn't  have  any  fun  drift 
ing  up.  Nobody  said  anything  much;  we  just  sat 
around  the  edge  of  the  deck  with  our  staffs  and 
pushed  her  off,  whenever  she  ran  against  the  shore. 

Charlie  Seabury  sat  next  to  me  and  after  a  while 
he  said,  "Who's  going  to  tell  his  people?" 

"I  am,"  I  told  him,  "because  I'm  to  blame  for 
the  whole  business." 

"Nobody's  to  blame,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I  am,"  I  said,  "they  just  did  it  on  account 
of  me." 

"That's  because  all  the  fellows  like  you,"  he 
said,  "and  they  like  to  do  anything  for  you." 

Anyway,  it  wasn't  so  necessary,  I  see  that  now, 
and  it's  just  the  same  as  if  I  killed  him.  Gee,  I 
wish  it  was  I  that  got  killed,  I  know  that.  Cracky, 
I  deserved  to  after  being  such  a  fool. 

After  that,  nobody  spoke  for  a  long  time',  then 
Hunt  Ward,  who's  in  the  Elk  Patrol,  said,  "It's 
the  first  fellow  in  our  troop  that  died.  I  guess  we 
won't  go  up  to  camp  now." 

"Not  in  this  boat,  anyway,"  I  said. 

Then  after  a  while  I  said,  "We'll  send  his  name 
in  and  they'll  print  it  in  Boys9  Life." 


78  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"I  know,"  Hunt  said,  "with  a  black  line  around 
it." 

Yet  we  kind  of  kept  hoping  all  the  time,  even 
though  we  knew  there  wasn't  any  sense  in  it. 

"You  thought  you  were  a  goner,"  Hunt  said, 
"and  you  came  back  all  right." 

Now  I  was  a  big  fool  that  it  didn't  put  a  certain 
idea  in  my  head  when  he  said  that,  but  I  only  said, 
"Yes*  but  that  was  different." 

Then  Dorry  Benton,  who  was  two  or  three  fel 
lows  away  from  me,  said,  "One  thing  is  sure,  he 
went  through  the  window  and  into  the  water. 
Maybe  he  was  half  conscious  and  didn't  remember 
there  was  only  a  narrow  strip  of  deck  there.  And 
he  must  have  tumbled  right  off  it." 

"I  don't  know,"  I  said,  "only  if  he  isn't  in  the 
boat  then  he  must  be  in  the  water  and  if  he  fell 
in  the  water  and  couldn't  swim  or  shout  either, 
then  he  must  be  drowned." 

Then  nobody  said  anything  and  we  just  sat 
there  keeping  her  off  shore  and  watching  her  drift 
up.  When  we  got  around  Bentley's  turn  we  could 
see  the  lights  in  Bridgeboro  and  then  was  when  I 
began  to  realize  and  I  hated  to  get  home.  I  wished 
the  tide  wouldn't  take  us  so  fast.  Some  of  the 
fellows  walked  around  on  the  roof,  but  none  of 


LOST  79 

them  said  anything.  I  wished  it  was  me  instead 
of  Artie,  I  know  that.  I  ought  to  have  been  satis 
fied  to  escape  without  getting  the  Ravens  to  do 
that — I  mean  send  that  message  for  me.  Anyway, 
I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  be  the  one  to  tell  Mr. 
Ellsworth  about  it,  and  Artie's  people  too,  and  I'd 
take  all  the  blame. 

I  guess  nobody  said  anything  more  all  the  way 
up,  until  we  came  near  the  Field  Club  landing. 
The  shore  is  like  low  cliffs  here  and  after  we  got 
her  over  against  it,  a  couple  of  the  fellows  got  out 
and  towed  her  along  with  ropes,  till  we  came  to 
the  long  float. 

"Are  we  going  to  tie  her  at  the  float?"  Connie 
Bennett  asked,  very  sober  like.  Gee,  it  sounded 
funny  to  hear  someone  speak.  Doc  Carson  said, 
"Yes."  He  was  kind  of  like  head  of  the  three 
patrols  now,  because  he  has  the  most  sense  of  all  of 
us,  I  guess,  and  Tom  Slade,  who  is  head  of  the 
Elks,  is  away  and  I  decided,  all  of  a  sudden,  that 
I  wasn't  much  of  a  patrol  leader,  and  Artie — he 
was — he  wasn't  there. 

"Look  out  for  that  canoe,'*  somebody  said, 
jus-t  as  we  were  coming  alongside  the  float. 

"They  shouldn't  have  left  it  there,"   Connie 


8o  ROY  BLAKELEY 

said;  "that's  no  place  for  a  canoe."     I  guess  we 
were  all  kind  of  nervous  and  cranky  like. 

Then  I  saw  that  there  was  a  black  figure  sitting 
on  the  lowest  step  of  the  boathouse.     I  was  just 
going  to  call  "Who's  there?"  when  Doc  said, 
"Pull  that  canoe  out  of  the  way  before  we  smash 
it  in." 

So  I  jumped  off  onto  the  float  and  grabbed  the 
canoe,  and  g-o-o-d  night  1  it  was  my  Indian  dugout. 


CHAPTER  XII 


THEN  I  heard  one  of  the  fellows  shouting, 
"Look  who's  here!"  and  I  saw  the  fellow  who  had 
been  sitting  on  the  steps  coming  toward  the  float, 
and  I  could  tell  it  was  Artie  Van  Arlen.  Then  I 
could  hear  Pee-wee  dancing  on  the  cabin  roof  and 
screaming,  "The  plot  grows  thicker  1  The  plot 
grows  thicker !" — good  night,  the  kid  was  almost 
having  a  fit. 

"If  it  wouldn't  be  too  much  trouble,"  I  said  to 
Artie,  "would  you  please  relate  your  adventures, 
I  see  that  you're  not  dead." 

"Well,  not  so  you'd  notice  it,"  he  said,  "but  I 
guess  I  came  pretty  near  it." 

Then  I  could  see  he  was  all  in  and  must  have 
had  a  pretty  hard  time  of  it,  but  I  couldn't  help 
kidding  him,  because  I  was  feeling  so  good  to 
know  he  was  safe.  Believe  me,  that  fellow  vliad 
some  adventure. 

"It  was  lucky  for  me,"  he  said,  "that  you  tied 
this  crazy  canoe  or  whatever  you  call  it — " 

81 


82  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"That  is  an  Indian  dugout,  if  anyone  should 
ask  you,"  I  said,  "and  if  I  wanted  to  sell  it  to  an 
antiquary — " 

"A  what?"  Pec-wee  shouted  down  from  the 
cabin  roof. 

"An  antiquary,"  I  said;  "comes  from  the  Latin 
word  aunt  and  the  Chinese  word  query,  meaning 
to  ask  questions — otherwise  the  same  as  Pee-wee. 
As  I  was  saying,  if  I  wanted  to  sell  it  to  an  anti 
quary  I  could  get  a  large  check  for  it." 

"How  large?"  Pee-wee  shouted. 

"About  eight  inches  by  two  and  a  half  inches; 
now,  shut  upl"  I  said. 

Cracky,  you  should  have  heard  those  fellows 
laugh. 

"Well,  whatever  it  is,"  said  Artie,  "it's  lucky 
for  me  that  you  tied  it  just  under  the  cabin 
window,  because  I  fell  into  it — I  fell  in  good  and 
hard." 

"I  think  you  fell  in  soft,"  I  said;  "it  shows  how 
thoughtful  I  am.  A  scout  is  foresighted — " 

"You  make  me  sick!"  Pee-wee  shouted. 

"Tell  Doc  Carson  to  give  you  some  medicine," 
I  answered. 

Laugh !  Because,  you  see,  we  were  all  feeling  so 
good  about  Artie  being  saved  that  we'd  laugh  at 


ARTIE'S  ADVENTURE  83 

nothing,  like  a  lot  of  girls.  But  girls  are  all  right, 
I  have  to  admit  that. 

Let's  see,  where  was  I  ?  Oh,  yes,  I  was  telling 
you  about  Artie.  You  see  when  I  first  arrived 
with  that  canoe  I  tied  it  just  under  the  cabin  win 
dow  and  then  scrambled  up  through  the  window. 
So  there  it  was  all  the  time.  Lucky  thing,  too. 
Only  the  funny  thing  was  we  never  missed  it — we 
were  punk  scouts,  that's  sure. 

Then  Artie  told  us  how  it  was.  "After  the 
smoke  got  so  thick  that  I  was  dizzy  and  couldn't 
see,  I  got  scared  and  groped  around  for  Wig.  I 
couldn't  find  him  anywhere  and  he  didn't  answer. 
I  didn't  know  whether  all  of  the  signal  had  been 
Sent  or  not,  but  anyway  I  knew  I  couldn't  stand 
it  in  there  any  longer.  I  thought  Wig  must  have 
climbed  out  of  the  window.  So  I  decided  I  would 
do  the  same  thing.  Oh,  but  didn't  I  have  some 
job  finding  it!  I  lay  down  flat,  I  knew  enough  to 
do  that  anyway,  and  then  I  crawled  around  with 
one  hand  up  feeling  for  the  window  sill.  When 
I  found  it  I  was  so  dizzy  I  just  hung  to  it  and  I 
thought  I  was  a  goner  sure." 

"I  know  how  you  felt,"  I  said,  "because  I  was 
in  the  same  trouble  myself." 

Then  he  said  how  he  dragged  himself  up  to 


84  ROY  BLAKELEY 

die  window  sill  and  tried  to  shout,  but  couldn't. 
Then  he  fell  across  it  and  kind  of  wriggled  out. 
He  didn't  have  his  senses,  but  he  knew  enough  to 
know  that  there  was  a  narrow  part  of  the  deck, 
just  a  passageway  sort  of,  outside,  and  he  thought 
he'd  fall  on  that.  But  it  was  lucky  he  didn't.  He 
fell  past  it  right  into  the  water  and  that  brought 
him  to  his  senses,  kind  of.  So  he  sputtered  anQ 
groped  around  till  he  happened  to  clutch  the  In* 
dian  dugout  and  it  rolled  over  with  him  and  the 
anchor  that  we  had  laid  in  it  with  a  rope  to  hold  it 
fast  to  the  houseboat,  the  anchor  rolled  out,  and 
the  first  thing  he  knew  he  was  drifting  up  the  river, 
hanging  onto  the  dugout  for  dear  life. 

He  was  feeling  so  weak  and  sputtering  so  on 
account  of  his  lungs  being  all  filled  with  smoke, 
that  he  couldn't  shout  and  after  a  while  he  drifted 
up  on  the  bar  near  Second  Bend.  Then  he  got 
the  dugout  set  right  side  up  on  the  mud  while  he 
bailed  it  out  by  splashing  in  it  with  his  hands  and 
afterwards  making  them  into  a  cup. 

After  that  it  was  easy  drifting  up  stream  and 
when  he  got  to  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  below 
the  boathouse,  he  managed  to  paddle  over  to  the 
shore  and  then  he  pulled  himself  along  by  holding 
on  to  the  weeds  and  things. 


ARTIE'S  ADVENTURE  85 

"You  had  a  pretty  narrow  escape,"  Pee-wee 
said. 

"It  was  a  narrow  boat,  why  shouldn't  he  have 
a  narrow  escape,"  I  said;  "I  had  a  good  wide  es 
cape,  anyway." 

"Didn't  you  have  your  hat  with  you  to  bail 
with?"  somebody  asked  Artie. 

"All  I  had  was  my  copy  of  Initiation  Drill,"  he 
said. 

"Why  didn't  you  drill  a  hole  in  the  boat  then,"  I 
said. 

"What  for?"  Pee-wee  shouted. 

"So  the  water  could  get  out  as  fast  as  it  came 


in." 


"What  are  you  talking  about?  You're  crazy!" 
he  yelled. 

"There  should  be  two  holeg  in  every  boat,"  Con 
nie  Bennet  said,  in  that  slow  way  he  has;  "one 
for  the  water  to  come  in  and  the  other  so  it  can 
get  out." 

Gee-vnlligcri    You  should  have  seen  Pee-wee. 

Anyway,  I  suppose  you  think  by  this  time  that 
we're  all  crazy.  I  should  worry. 


TRACKING 

ANYWAY,  you  can  bet  I  didn't  stay  there  long, 
because  I  wanted  to  find  out  if  Wig's  signal  had 
been  received.  Maybe  you  won't  understand,  but 
down  the  river  it  seemed  all  right  and  I  was  sure 
somebody  must  have  caught  it.  But  after  we 
landed  and  I  started  up  home,  it  seemed  as  if  it  was 
just  kind  of  playing,  after  all,  because  that's  the 
way  some  people  think  about  the  scouts,  so  I  hur 
ried  as  fast  as  I  could  so  that  my  mother  and  father 
wouldn't  be  worrying.  I  felt  awfully  funny,  kind 
of,  as  I  went  up  the  lawn  because  I  knew  that  if 
no  one  had  come  and  told  them  about  the  signal, 
they'd  think  I  was  dead. 

They  were  sitting  on  the  porch  waiting  for  me 
and  I  knew  from  the  way  my  mother  put  her  arms 
around  me  that  they  had  been  worrying.  She 
asked  we  what  had  kept  me  so  late  and  my  father 
said  that  I  ought  to  send  them  some  word  when  I 
was  going  to  stay  out  as  late  as  midnight.  I  have 
to  admit  he  was  right,  too. 


TRACKING  87 

But  anyway,  I  knew  that  they  hadn't  received 
any  word  about  me  from  anybody,  and  I  was  all 
up  in  the  air  about  that.  I  could  see  that  Jake 
Holden  hadn't  been  there  at  all  and  that  nobody 
had  come  and  told  them  about  the  signal,  either. 
I  didn't  exactly  ask  them,  but  I  could  tell  it  all  the 
same.  So  I  told  them  all  about  everything  that 
happened,  about  how  I  got  caught  in  the  marsh 
and  all  that,  and  especially  about  Wig  being  such 
a  hero.  Then  she  cried  a  little,  kind  of,  and  I 
said  there  was  no  use  crying  because  I  was  home 
all  right.  But  anyway,  she  cried  just  the  same, 
and  hugged  me  awful  tight  just  as  if  everything 
hadn't  ended  all  right.  That's  a  funny  thing  about 
mothers. 

So  then  I  went  to  bed  and  I  lay  awake  think 
ing  about  everything  that  happened.  What  I 
thought  about  most  was  why  Jake  Holden  hadn't 
come  and  told  my  mother  and  father  like  I  heard 
him  say  he  was  going  to  do.  You  remember  how 
I  heard  him  say  that.  So  that  was  a  mystery — 
that's  what  Pee-wee  would  call  it.  And  I  was 
wondering  why  he  hadn't  come  to  the  house  to 
give  them  that  note  he  had  found.  Because  I 
knew  Jake  Holden  (he  always  called  me 
"Scouty")  and  he  liked  me,  too,  and  I  knew  he 


88  ROY  BLAKELEY 

would  sure  have  come  to  the  house  if  something 
hadn't  happened. 

Now  that  I  was  all  calmed  down,  as  you  might 
say,  I  wasn't  surprised  any  more  about  no  one  read, 
ing  the  signal,  because  maybe  it  didn't  show  very' 
plain  in  Bridgeboro  and  anyway,  most  grown  peo* 
pie  seem  to  think  that  signalling  and  all  that  kind 
of  thing  are  lots  of  fun  for  scouts,  but  not  much 
use  except  when  grown  people,  and  especially  the 
Jiavy,  do  it. 

Anyway,  I  should  worry  about  grown  people, 
because  we  have  plenty  of  fun. 

Oh,  boy,  didn't  I  sleep  that  night !  When  I  got 
pp  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I'd  go  to  Jake  Hol- 
Sien's  shanty,  just  for  the  fun  of  it,  and  find  out 
why  he  didn't  come  and  tell  my  family  that  I  was 
dead.  Because,  if  I  was  dead,  he  sure  ought  to 
have  come  and  told  them.  Of  course,  I  knew  I 
wasn't  dead,  but  anyway,  how  did  he  know  that? 

After  breakfast  I  did  my  good  turn — I  turned 
my  sister  Ruth's  bed  around  for  her  so  as  it  faced 
the  bay  window.  I  was  going  to  turn  it  twice  and 
call  it  two  good  turns,  but  she  said  that  wouldn't 
be  fair —  that  that  wouldn't  be  two  good  turns.  I 
said  it  would  be  just  as  fair  as  Pee-wee  turning  the 
ice-cream  freezer  till  the  cream  was  all  frozen 


TRACKING  89 

and  then  saying  he  did  a  hundred  good  turns. 
Then  she  threw  a  tennis  ball  at  me,  but  it  missed 
me.  That's  one  thing  about  girls,  they  can't  throw 
a  ball.  They  can't  whistle,  either. 

Now  comes  another  adventure.  After  break 
fast  I  went  to  Marshtown  (that's  a  few  houses 
down  near  the  river)  to  Jake  Holden's  shanty. 
It's  a  funny  kind  of  a  place  made  out  of  barrel 
staves  and  part  of  a  boat  all  jumbled  up  together, 
and  it  looks  kind  of  like  a  chicken  coop.  He  lives 
all  alone  and  kind  of  camps  out.  He's  a  nice  man, 
you  can  bet,  only  you  have  to  get  on  the  right 
side  of  him.  If  you  Hon't  get  on  the  right  side  of 
him  the  safest  place  is  behind  him.  He  catches 
fish  and  crabs  and  goes  around  town  selling  them. 
He  taught  me  how  to  cook. 

When  I  got  to  his  shanty  I  saw  it  was  locked 
up  and  he  wasn't  anywhere  around.  I  guess  he 
went  down  the  bay  crabbing.  Anyway,  I  ran  as 
fast  as  I  could  to  Marshtown  landing  to  see  if  he 
had  gone  yet,  but  there  wasn't  any  sign  of  his 
boat  there.  Maybe  you  think  I  wasn't  disap 
pointed.  Anyway,  I  began  looking  around  like  a 
scout  is  supposed  to  do,  to  see  if  there  were  any 
signs  to  show  me  whether  he'd  be  back  soon,  be 
cause  maybe  he  only  went  up  to  the  Club  landing 


90  ROY  BLAKELEY 

[for  gasoline.  But  there  weren't  any  signs  and  he 
didn't  show  up. 

Now,  if  I  hadn't  been  a  scout  I  would  have  gone 
home  and  played  tennis  or  followed  the  shore  up 
to  the  Club  landing  and  waited  for  the  troop  to 
come  and  go  to  work  on  the  houseboat.  But  in 
stead  of  that,  I  kept  looking  around  and  pretty 
soon  what  do  you  think  I  saw  ?  I  saw  a  footprint. 
Some  Robinson  Crusoe,  hey? 

It  was  a  funny  kind  of  a  footprint.  It  wasn't 
Jake's,  I  knew  that,  because  he  always  wore  fisher 
man's  boots.  It  was  in  the  soft  earth  near  the 
landing  and  I  could  see  it  plain.  I  guess  maybe 
it  was  made  by  a  good  shoe,  because  it  was  pointed,. 
but  it  was  all  worn  out,  that  was  one  sure  thing,  be 
cause  there  was  a  place  that  was  made  by  a  stock" 
ing  or  a  bare  foot,  where  there  wasn't  any  sole  at 
all. 

Maybe  you  don't  know  much  about  deduction, 
but  that's  one  thing  scouts  learn  about,  and  I  tried 
to  make  out  what  it  meant,  but  it  had  me  guessing. 
Because  the  shoe  was  pointed  and  had  the  remains 
of  a  rubber  heel — I  could  tell  that  by  the  big  screw 
holes.  And  that  meant  good  shoes.  And  I  thought 
it  was  funny  anybody  who  could  wear  good  shoes 
would  let  them  wear  out  like  that. 


TRACKING  9r 

Anyway,  it  was  none  of  my  business,  only  there 
was  one  mighty  funny  thing  about  that  footprint. 
There  was  an  Indian's  head  stamped  right  in  the 
mud.  It  wasn't  very  plain,  but  I  could  see  it  was 
an  Indian's  head  all  right.  It  was  something  like 
the  Indian's  head  on  a  cent. 

Oh,  boy,  I  was  all  up  in  the  air  then,  because 
I  didn't  understand  how  that  could  be  there. 
Maybe  you'll  say  that  it  was  stamped  there  to  show 
what  make  of  shoes  they  were,  but  that's  where 
you're  wrong,  because  most  of  the  sole  was  alJ 
worn  away  and  the  mark  would  be  worn  away,  too 
Somebody  must  have  cut  it  there  lately,  that  was 
one  sure  thing,  and  I  couldn't  understand  why  any* 
body  would  want  to  cut  that  on  an  old  worn-out 
shoe. 

So  I  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  float  to  think 
'about  it  and  then  I  saw  two  or  three  more  just 
like  it,  and  even  more,  too,  only  not  all  of  them 
were  so  plain.  Believe  me,  I  didn't  know  what  to 
think.  Then  all  of  a  sudden  I  happened  to  re 
member  that  the  Indian's  head  is  the  design  of  the 
scout  pathfinder  badge. 

Jiminetty,  but  didn't  I  get  down  on  my  knees 
and  study  those  some  more.  Maybe  it  didn't  have 
-anything  to  do  with  the  scouts,  but  maybe  it  did. 


92  ROY:  BLAKELET 

And  even  if  it  did  I  couldn't  make  out  what  it 
meant,  because  that  shoe  was  no  scout  shoe.  I 
know  a  scout  shoe  when  I  see  one,  you  can  bet. 

Anyway,  I  made  up  my  mind  I  was  going  to 
follow  that  track  as  far  as  I  could.  Maybe  it 
would  peter  out  on  a  street  or  something  and  then 
— good  night  I 

.You'll  see  what  happened  in  the  next  chapter. 
Oh,  boy,  it's  going  to  be  a  -peacherinol 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  SLACKER 

ONE  thing,  I  wished  Tom  Slade  was  there,  be 
cause  he  was  the  best  tracker  we  ever  had.  Hfc 
could  track  an  airplane — that's  what  the  fellows 
used  to  say.  But  he  was  over  in  France  and  the 
only  other  fellow  in  our  troop  who  is  a  cracker- 
jack  at  tracking,  is  Westy  Martin.  I  don't  say 
that  just  because  he's  a  Silver  Fox,  because  I  have 
to  admit  that  Artie  Van  Arlen  and  Wig  Weigancj 
are  heroes,  and  they're  not  Silver  Foxes.  But, 
honest,  Westy  is  a  winner  when  it  comes  to  track 
ing,  and  you've  got  to  remember  that,  because  now 
I'm  going  to  tell  you  some  other  things  about 
him  and  maybe  you  won't  know  just  what  to  think. 
But  I'm  going  to  tell  you  straight  just  what  hap 
pened. 

Well,  I  decided  that  I'd  rather  have  another 
fellow  with  me,  because  that's  a  good  rule  in  track- 
*ng  and  anyway  two  fellows  are  better  than  one. 
'And  anyway,  I  knew  he  could  hold  a  track  longer 
than  I  could.  He  got  the  pathfinder's  badge  t'oij 

93 


$4  ROY  BLAKELEY 

one  of  the  best  tracking  stunts  that  was  ever  done 
up  at  Temple  Camp  and  he's  done  enough  track 
ing  stunts  to  win  it  two  or  three  times  over.  He's 
a  fiend  on  tracking. 

By  now  I  knew  that  the  fellows  would  all  be 
coming  down  to  the  boat  club  landing  to  work  on 
the  houseboat,  because  we  had  it  fixed  that  they 
would  all  be  there  by  nine  o'clock.  I  wasn't  going 
to  flunk  on  that,  you  can  bet,  but  I  thought  if  I 
told  them  about  the  footprint  they'd  let  Westy  and 
me  off  for  a  little  while,  because  if  a  scout  is  after 
a  merit  badge  he  can  usually  get  leave  all  right. 
Anyway,  that's  the  way  it  is  in  our  troop.  And  all 
the  fellows  knew  I  had  the  tracking  bee,  all  right. 

Gee,  I  hate  to  tell  you  about  this,  but  I  have 
to.  Now,  the  way  you  get  from  Marshtown  land 
ing  up  to  the  boat  club  landing  is  to  follow  thq 
shore  and  its  only  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  After 
I'd  hiked  it  a  little  way,  I  could  hear  the  fellows 
talking  and  sawing  and  hammering,  and  I  knew 
they  were  all  busy  working. 

When  I  got  there  they  were  all  over  the  house 
boat  like  flies,  painting  and  varnishing  and  fixing 
tip  the  flagpole,  and  I  could  hear  Pee-wee  as  usual, 
shouting  away.  Jiminy,  but  it  sounded  good. 
Then  I  could  hear  somebody  say,  "Well,  well, 


THE  SLACKER  95 

better  late  than  never,"  and  I  saw  it  was  our 
scoutmaster,  Mr.  Ellsworth.  He  took  a  day  off 
to  help  the  fellows. 

"I'm  only  six  minutes  late,"  I  said;  "Silver 
Foxes  always  show  up." 

"Well,  let  us  hope  so,"  Mr.  Ellsworth  said. 
And  I  kind  of  saw  that  something  was  wrong. 

"Westy  isn't  here,"  somebody  shouted. 

"He'll  be  here  in  a  minute,"  I  said;  "get  t<v 
work;  you  should  worry  about  Wcsty." 

But  just  the  same  I  felt  sort  of  uncomfortable 
because  one  thing  Mr.  Ellsworth  is  a  stickler 
about  is  us  being  on  time.  Whenever  a  scout 
comes  late  for  campfire  up  at  Temple  Camp  or  at 
a  troop  meeting  either,  he  always  gets  a  look  from 
T.  E.  At  camp  we  have  breakfast  at  7 142  and 
lunch  at  1 123  and  supper  at  7  :i3,  just  to  teach  the 
fellows  to  go  by  minutes. 

Anyway,  I  started  working  with  my  patrol,  wh» 
were  painting  the  deck.  I  stuck  right  to  it,  but 
all  the  time  I  was  wishing  that.  Westy  would  show 
up.  Every  time  I  heard  a  sound  I  looked  up.  Be 
cause  maybe  you  don't  know  that  a  patrol  leader 
is  responsible  for  his  patrol  and  if  one  of  them 
falls  down,  it's  just  the  same  as  if  he  fell  down. 
First  the  fellows  kidded  us  about  it,  especially 


96  ROY  BLAKELEY 

me,  and  spoke  about  the  Tardy  Foxes,  and  the 
Sleepy  Foxes,  but  pretty  soon  Mr.  Ellsworth  came 
to  me  and  said  he  guessed  I'd  better  go  into  the 
club  house  and  telephone  to  Westy  and  find  out 
what  was  the  mater. 

"Find  out  if  he's  awake  yet,"  somebody  said. 

"Maybe  we'd  better  send  a  taxi  for  him,"  an 
other  fellow  shouted. 

"You  think  you're  very  funny,  don't  you?"  I 
said,  "Maybe  you  raving  Ravens  won't  rave  so 
much  when  you  find  out  he's  sick  in  bed." 

So  I  went  in  and  telephoned,  and  oh,  jiminy, 
that  was  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  ever  really 
wished  a  fellow  was  sick.  But  his  mother  told  me 
he  hadn't  been  home  since  about  half-past  seven 
and  that  when  he  went  out  he  had  a  catching-mit 
and  a  baseball  with  him. 

Jimmies,  I  don't  often  get  scared,  but  I  could 
feel  my  heart  up  in  my  mouth,  kind  of,  and  I  didn't 
know  what  to  tell  the  fellows  and  Mr.  Ellsworth. 
It  was  like  a  disgrace  to  my  patrol  and  it  disgraced 
me,  too,  you  can  bet.  He  would  go  off  and  play 
ball  and  let  us  fellows  do  all  the  work  on  the  boat 
and  then  he'd  go  in  it  up  to  Temple  Camp.  Gee, 
that's  one  thing  a  scout  never  is — mean.  We  had 


THE  SLACKER  97 

it  all  fixed  up  to  work  and  then  he  flunked  and  let 
us  do  it  all. 

First  I  thought  maybe  I'd  kind  of  not  tell  Mr. 
Ellsworth  all  about  that  'phone  call  and  say  I 
couldn't  hear  very  plain,  and  all  like  that.  But  I 
saw  if  I  did  that,  I'd  be  worse  than  Westy.  It 
was  bad  enough  having  a  slacker  in  my  patrol  with 
out  having  a  liar. 

No,  siree! 

So  I  just  went  up  to  him  and  I  said,  "Mr. 
Ellsworth,  he's  out  playing  ball  somewheres  and 
I  guess  he  didn't  intend  to  come.  I  admit  it  dis 
graces  my  patrol  and  it  disgraces  the  whole  troop. 
I  was  going  to  ask  you  if  you  thought  maybe  I 
could  go  away  for  an  hour  or  so  to  follow  a  track 
I  found,  but  I  won't  now;  I'll  just  stay  here  and 
work  twice  as  hard  so  as  to  make  up  for  him. 
And  the  other  fellows  in  my  patrol  will  too. 
Maybe  that  will  make  it  seem  not  quite  so  bad." 


CHAPTER  XV 

DURING  NOON  HOUR 

ONE  of  the  things  that  made  me  feel  especially 
bad  was  that  Wig  Weigand  and  Artie  Van  Ar- 
len  were  there  working,  even  after  being  nearly 
killed  the  night  before,  and  Artie  was  kind  of 
lame,  too,  from  straining  his  ankle  when  he  fell. 
Gee,  I  had  to  hand  it  to  those  fellows.  And  even 
Pee-wee  was  working  away  with  the  rest  of  the 
Ravens  and  running  to  buy  nails  and  everything. 
Both  of  the  other  patrols  were  all  there  except 
Tom  Slade  in  the  Elks,  but  they  kept  his  place 
open  for  memory,  sort  of. 

After  a  little  while  Mr.  Ellsworth  strolled  over 
to  where  I  was  working  and  said  to  me — gee,  he 
was  awful  nice  the  way  he  said  it — he  said,  "Roy, 
if  you  want  to  follow  up  that  trail  you  may  as  well 
go  ahead  and  come  back  after  lunch.  We're  go 
ing  to  hit  the  eats  pretty  soon  now."  That's  the 
way  he  always  says  it,  "hit  the  eats." 

"I  was  expecting  Westy  to  go  with  me,"  I  told 
him. 

98 


99 

"Well,  no  matter,"  he  said;  "go  alone  and  don't 
worry  any  more  about  Westy.  It  wasn't  because 
Westy  or  any  other  single  scout  was  needed  here 
for  we  have  plenty  of  scouts  on  the  job,  but  it  was 
just  that  he  didn't  show  up  when  we  all  planned 
to  be  here,  that's  all.  I  don't  like  to  think  of  any, 
of  my  scouts  falling  down." 

"It's  the  same  about  my  patrol,"  I  said,  "and 
I'm  ashamed,  that's  one  sure  thing." 

He  said  I  shouldn't  feel  that  way  and  that  he 
guessed  playing  baseball  was  good  exercise  any 
way.  But  he  only  said  that  so  I  wouldn't  feel  bad. 

Anyway  as  long  as  they  were  going  to  eat  I 
thought  I  might  as  well  go  ahead  and  see  if  I 
could  do  that  tracking  if  it  didn't  take  me  too  far. 
On  the  way  down  to  the  other  landing  I  thought 
what  I'd  say  to  Westy.  I  knew  he'd  get  a  troop 
reprimand,  but  I  decided  he'd  get  a  patrol  repri 
mand  too,  you  bet.  And  I  was  feeling  pretty  bad 
about  it  too,  because  none  of  the  Silver  Foxes  ever 
got  a  troop  reprimand.  They  got  patrol  repri 
mands  but  not  troop  reprimands.  And  Westy  had 
gone  and  spoiled  it  all  and,  gee,  that's  one  word 
I  don't  like — slacker. 

When  I  got  to  the  other  landing  I  started  fol 
lowing  that  trail.  If  you  think  Westy  had  any- 


loo  ROY  BLAKELEY 

thing  to  do  with  it,  you're  mighty  mistaken,  be* 
cause  he  didn't.  He  always  wore  scout  shoes,  I 
knew  that. 

Well,  believe  me,  that  trail  was  a  cinch  and  I 
could  follow  it  as  easy  as  a  clothes  line.  It  went 
right  up  through  River  Lane  where  there  isn't 
any  pavement  and  every  footprint  was  plain.  I 
was  afraid  it  would  go  through  Daws  Place,  be 
cause  that's  the  easiest  way  to  get  to  Main  Street, 
and  I'd  lose  it  there  on  account  of  the  pavement. 
But  it  didn't,  and,  oh,  boy,  wasn't  I  glad ! 

Instead  of  going  that  way,the  tracks  went  right 
up  across  the  ball  field,  just  as  plain  as  print. 
That's  another  way  to  get  to  Main  Street,  and  it 
brings  you  out  at  Harvey's  candy  store,  but  don't 
ever  go  there  for  ice  cream  cones,  because  you 
get  bigger  ones  down  at  Jack's. 

Then  I  lost  the  trail  on  account  of  the  pave 
ments.  Gee,  that's  one  thing  I  don't  like  about 
pavements.  So  there's  where  I  did  some  deduc 
ing.  Maybe  you  don't  know  what  bridging  a  trail- 
gap  means.  You  have  only  yourselves  to  blame 
for  not  being  scouts.  Bridging  a  trail-gap  meana 
stopping  to  think  when  you  lose  a  trail.  You  have 
to  decide  where  it  most  likely  starts  again.  That's 
what  grown-up  scouts  call  mental  tracking. 


DURING  NOON  HOUR  lor 

So  I  sat  down  on  Ridgeway's  carriage  step  and 
thinked  a  couple  of  thinks.  That's  right  on  Main 
Street,  you  know,  and  I  had  to  decide  if  that  per 
son  went  up  or  down  Main  Street  or  across  the 
street.  Right  across  the  street  is  the  big  bank 
building.  I've  got  forty-two  dollars  and  eighteen 
cents  interest  in  that  bank.  Mr.  Temple  is  the 
head  of  it,  and  he's  awful  rich — he  owns  railroads 
and  things.  He  started  Temple  Camp.  He  calls 
me  "Curly"  because  my  hair  curls.  I  should 
worry. 

Right  down  alongside  of  the  bank  runs  Barrel 
Alley.  It  reminds  you  of  Fifth  Avenue,  it's  so 
different.  That's  where  Tom  Slade  was  born, 
down  there.  Most  every  day  somebody  dies  down 
there,  but  anyway  there  are  paving-stones  there 
now,  that's  one  good  thing.  Except  for  tracking. 
So  you  see  how  it  was;  that  person,  who  ever  he 
was,  could  have  gone  up  Main  Street  or  down 
Main  Street,  or  over  the  stone  crossing  into  Barrel 
Alley. 

I  decided  that  he  went  across  into  Barrel  Alley 
for  several  reasons.  One  was  that  he  went  across 
the  ball  field,  and  that  meant  that  he'd  have  to  get 
down  and  crawl  under  the  fence,  so  I  decided  it 
was  not  a  grown-up  person,  because  most  of  them 


1102  ROY  BLAKELEY 

have  stiff  backs  and  they'd  rather  walk  a  mile  than 
crawl  under  a  fence.  They're  all  the  time  saying 
they're  not  as  young  as  they  used  to  be.  And  if  it 
was  a  boy  he'd  be  most  likely  to  go  into  Barrel 
Alley  because,  believe  me,  they  have  boys  down 
there  by  the  dozens,  especially  the  kind  that  wear 
worn-out  shoes  that  rich  people  give  them.  So 
that  accounts  for  the  good  shoes  all  worn  out. 

Smart  boy,  hey  ? 

So  you  see  that's  the  way  I  bridged  that  trail, 
though  I  couldn't  be  sure  I  was  right,  I  have  to 
admit  that.  Anyway  I  went  across  the  street  and 
•I  saw  by  the  clock  in  the  bank  that  it  was  half 
past  twelve.  I  knew  I  couldn't  go  much  farther 
because  I  wanted  to  get  back  to  the  house-boat  by 
one. 

I  started  down  Barrel  Alley,  watching  the  mud 
along  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk,  so  I  could  tell 
if  the  fellow  left  the  sidewalk  to  go  into  one  of 
the  houses.  Barrel  Alley  is  a  blind  alley — that 
means  it  has  an  end  to  it  and  you  can't  go  any 
'further.  It  runs  plunk  into  the  end  of  Shad 
[Row.  Norris  Row  is  the  right  name,  but  old  man 
Norris  is  named  Shadley  Norris,  so  us  fellows  call 
it  Shad  Row.  You  can  get  through  the  end  of 
Barrel  Alley  if  you  climb  over  old  man  Norris1 


DURING  NOON  HOUR  103 

feack  fence,  so  it  isn't  exactly  a  blind  alley.  It's 
just  a  little  near-sighted,  kind  of. 

Anyway  I  started  through  it  and  I  knew  if  my 
quarry  (that  means  the  fellow  you're  tracking) 
went  down  there,  he  most  likely  went  into  one  of 
the  tenement  houses  and  I'd  see  that  footprint  as 
soon  as  he  turned  off  from  the  sidewalk. 

Well,  pretty  soon  I  did  see  it  right  alongside 
the  sidewalk  just  where  he  started  to  go  into  one 
of  the  houses.  And  oh,  wasn't  I  tickled!  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  Westy  Martin  and  the  way  he'd 
acted  I  would  have  felt  as  grand  as  the  Grand 
Central  Station.  But  that  was  the  thing  I  was 
thinking  most  about  and  when  you're  thinking 
about  something  like  that,  you  don't  have  very 
much  fun — I  know  I  don't  anyway. 

But  as  long  as  I  was  there,  I  might  as  well  find 
out  who  it  was  I  had  tracked  and  solve  the 
mystery  about  the  Indian  head.  That's  the  way 
Pee-wee  would  have  said  it,  "solve  the  mystery" 
He  gets  that  kind  of  talk  out  of  books.  The  next 
chapter  is  going  to  be  a  dandy  and  I  promised  to 
let  him  give  it  a  name,  so  don't  blame  me  what 
ever  it  is. 

So  long. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

NOBLE  RAGS 

"GOOD  NIGHT  !"  I  said  to  Pee-wee,  "what  kind 
of  rags  do  you  call  those?" 

"Didn't  you  ever  hear  of  noble  rags?"  he 
yelled;  "that  shows  how  much  you  know  about 
story  writing." 

"Are  they  any  relation  to  a  dish  rag?"  I  asked 
him. 

"You  think  you're  smart,  don't  you,"  he  said; 
"do  you  know  what  a  hero  is — a  ragged  hero?" 

"Sure,  a  hero  is  a  male  shero,"  I  told  him ;  "you 
learn  that  in  the  third  grade.  Just  the  same  as 
a  cowardice  is  a  female  coward." 

"You  make  me  sick !"  he  yelled. 

"I've  heard  of  gasoline  rags  and  dish  rags  and 
wash  rags,"  I  kept  up,  "but  I  never  saw  any  noble 
ones.  Have  your  own  way.  I  should  worry." 

"It's  a  good  name  for  a  chapter,"  he  said. 

"I  wouldn't  know  a  noble  rag  if  I  met  one  in  the 
street,"  I  told  him. 

104 


NOBLE  RAGS  105 

So  that's  how  this  chapter  got  it's  name,  and  I 
don't  know  what  it  means  any  more  than  you  do. 
I  suppose  the  next  one  will  be  called  "Trash 
Paper,"  or  something  like  that. 

Well,  anyway,  I  stood  on  that  doorstep  for  a 
few  minutes,  because  I  didn't  know  what  to  do 
next.  I  was  sure  the  fellow  went  in  there,  but  I 
didn't  know  where  he  went  and  anyway,  I  didn't 
have  any  excuse  to  hunt  him  out  because  I  was 
only  tracking  him  for  a  stunt.  Anyway  I  went 
in  and  when  I  got  upstairs  one  flight  I  saw  just 
a  sign  of  that  print  in  the  hall  just  in  front  of  a 
door.  The  hall  was  all  dirty  and  greasy  like. 

So  by  that  I  was  pretty  sure  he  had  gone  in 
there  and  you  see  how  I  tracked  him  all  the  way 
from  Marshtown  landing.  Then  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  he  sure  wouldn't  be  mad  if  he  knew  I 
did  it  just  for  a  stunt  and  I'd  tell  him  I  was  scout 
ing.  For  just  a  minute  I  was  scared,  then  I  gave  a 
rap  on  the  door. 

Oh,  but  it  was  dark  and  it  smelled  bad  in  that 
hall.  I  guess  they  ought  to  tear  down  that  row  of 
tenements.  Pretty  soon  I  rapped  again,  and  I 
felt  kind  of  funny,  because  I  didn't  know  what  I 
ought  to  say — especially  if  a  woman  opened  it. 
All  of  a  sudden  it  opened  very  soft,  and,  good 


io6 

night  I  who  should  be  standing  there  but — who  do 
you  think? 

Westy  Martin. 

Jiminetty,  but  wasn't  I  flabbergasted  1  Even  as 
surprised  as  I  was,  I  looked  down  at  his  feet  and 
sure  enough  he  had  on  scout  shoes,  almost  new. 
Talk  about  plots  growing  thicker!  This  one  was 
getting  so  thick  you  couldn't  drive  a  nail  into  it. 

"Well  —  what  —  are  —  you— doing — here  ?H 
I  gasped  out  just  like  that. 

"Shh,"  he  said,  "keep  quiet;  come  in,  but  keep 
quiet." 

So  I  went  in,  all  flabbergasted  and  there  was  a 
room  with  the  paper  all  falling  off  the  walls  and 
no  carpet  on  the  floor,  but  anyway  the  windows 
were  wide  open,  that  was  one  good  thing.  And 
over  in  the  corner  was  an  old  cot  without  any 
sheets  or  anything  and,  oh,  gee,  it  looked  bad 
because  I've  got  a  dandy  bed  up  in  my  den — all 
brass  and  filigree  work — you  know. 

But,  crinkums,  I  didn't  notice  the  cot  much  be 
cause  there  was  a  fellow  on  it  and  as  soon  as  I 
looked  at  him  I  knew  who  it  was,  even  though  he 
looked  worse  than  he  most  always  did.  It  was 
Skinny  McCord. 

"Yon  waked  him  up  by  knocking,"  Westy  said. . 


NOBLE  RAGS  107 

"It  isn't  the  first  knocking  I  did  to-day,"  I  said, 
"but  I  guess  I  can  see  how  it  is  now — I  guess  I 


can." 


"It's  only  a  good  turn,"  he  said;  "he  did  you  a 
good  turn,  and  so  I  had  to  do  one  for  him,  that's 
all.  It's  for  the  scouts  too,  and  I  don't  care  what 
they  say." 

Then  I  happened  to  notice  a  catching  mit  and  a 
baseball  over  on  a  table  near  Skinny,  where  there 
was  some  medicine  too.  And  then,  all  of  a  sudden, 
everything  seemed  to  glisten  like,  especially  when 
I  blinked  my  eyes.  Gee,  I  know  how  easy  it  is 
/or  girls  to  cry,  but  a  fellow — anyway — when  I 
saw  Westy  sit  down  on  the  edge  of  that  cot  and 
not  pay  any  attention  to  me,  only  to  Skinny,  I 
couldn't  speak  at  all.  I  only  just  happened  to 
think  to  do  something  and  I'm  glad  I  thought 
about  it.  I  just  raised  my  hand  aad  made  Westy 
Martin  the  full  scout  salute.  Patrol  leaders  don't 
do  that  mostly  to  the  fellows  in  their  patrols,  but 
I  should  worry  about  rules  and  things  like  that. 

"You're  taking  care  of  him?"  I  said  as  soon 
as  I  could,  and  I  felt  all  foolish  sort  of.  "I 
tracked  him,  but  I  never  thought" — and  I  just 
couldn't  say  any  more. 

JJut  even  still  Westy  didn't  speak  to  me,  only  he 


io8  ROY,  BLAKELEY, 

said  to  Skinny,  "Here's  a  real  patrol  leader  come 
to  see  you — that's  a  big  honor,  that  is,  and  he  just 
made  you  the  full  salute.  You  remember  it  in 
the  Scout  Handbook?'* 

"I  made  that  salute  to  you"  I  said  to  Westy,  all 
choking,  I  have  to  admit  it,  "and  I  meant  it  too.'* 

"You're  a  great  tracker,"  he  said;  "wouldn't 
you  like  to  be  as  good  a  tracker  as  he  is,  Skinny?'* 
And  I  could  see  that  all  he  cared  about  was  amus 
ing  Skinny. 

"Don't  talk  about  me,"  I  said;  "I'm  a  big  fool, 
that's  what  I  am,  but  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"There  isn't  anything  to  tell,'*  said  Westy,  "ex 
cept  that  Skinny  always  wanted  to  be  a  scout,  but 
he  didn't  have  any  money  and  all  like  that.  But 
anyway,  he  got  the  Handbook  and  studied  it  all 
up  and  it  got  him." 

"Same  as  it  gets  any  fellow  that  looks  inside  of 
it,"  I  said. 

"And  the  part  that  interested  him  most  of  all 
was  tracking  and  signalling.  You  see  how  he 
carved  the  tracking  emblem  on  one  of  his  shoes — '* 

"You  needn't  show  it  to  me,"  I  said,  "I  saw  it.'* 

"Last  night,*'  Westy  said,  "he  read  that  smudge 
signal,  because  he  learned  the  Morse  Code  out  of 
the  Handbook,  and  he  knew  that  somebody 


NOBLE  RAGS  109 

might  be  coming  up  the  river  with  the  false  report. 
He  didn't  know  just  what  he  ought  to  do  and  I 
guess  he  was  scared  to  go  up  to  your  house  be 
cause  he  didn't  have  any  good  clothes.  So  he  ran 
down  through  the  marshes  and  waited  at  the  land 
ing,  because  he  knew  Jake  Holden  would  be  com 
ing  up  stream.  Jake's  one  good  friend  to  him, 
and  he  often  took  him  out  and  he  wasn't  afraid 
of  Jake. 

"Pretty  soon  he  heard  Jake's  boat  corning  up 
the  river  and  saw  the  light  and  he  just  waited  there 
and  when  Jake  come  up  alongside  the  float,  the 
first  thing  Skinny  heard  him  say  was,  'Roy 
Blakeley  is  dead' — didn't  you,  Skinny  ?" 

But  I  could  see  that  Skinny's  eyes  were  shut 
now  and  he  didn't  hear.  "Go  on,"  I  said. 

"So  Skinny  told  him  it  wasn't  true,  and  told 
him  about  the  signal.  Jake  didn't  pay  much  at 
tention  because  he  thought  Skinny  was  just  a  little 
crazy  on  account  of  being  so  poor  and  hungry 
and  all  that  and  not  having  a  good  home.  So  he 
was  going  up  to  your  house  anyway  and  Skinny 
cried  and  hung  onto  him,  and  begged  him  not  to. 
I  guess  he  went  on  kind  of  crazy,  but  he  said  he 
was  sure  because  he  knew  the  Morse  Code.  Any- 
:way,  just  to  humor  him,  I  guess,  Jake  promised 


no  ROY  BLAKELEY 

him  he'd  wait  till  early  in  the  morning,  and  mean 
while  you  came  home.  Do  you  see?" 

Honest,  I  couldn't  answer  him. 

"Skinny  was  the  one  who  did  it,"  he  said.  "That 
accounts  for  his  tracks,  don't  you  see?" 

I  shook  my  head  to  show  him  I  understood. 
But  I  couldn't  say  it. 

"And  that's  how  tracking  and  signalling  have 
brought  the  three  of  us  together — see?"  Westy 
said.  "It's  funny,  isn't  it,  how  it  brings  the  three 
of  us  together  here  in  this  tenement  house." 

"How  did  you  come  here  ?"  I  said. 

"I  was  just  starting  for  the  house-boat  thii 
•ciorning  early,  when  I  met  Skinny's  mother.  She 
was  going  to  do  her  day's  washing.  And  she 
told  me  how  she  had  to  leave  him  sick  in  bed,  and 
she  asked  me  if  I'd  go  and  stay  with  him  till  she 
got  back.  I  went  back  and  got  the  ball  and  mit 
because  I  thought  maybe  he'd  like  them.  She  said 
he  got  a  bad  cold  in  the  marshes  and  he  was  all 
excited  and  kind  of  crazy  from  the  way  he'd  hung 
onto  Jake  and  begged  him  not  to  go  up  to  your 
house — what  did  the  fellows  think  when  I  didn't 
show  up  ?" 

"You — you  should  worry,"  I  just  blurted  out. 

"Anyway  I  don't  care  so  much  about  the  troop 


NOBLE  RAGS  in 

or  Mr.  Ellsworth  either,"  he  said,  "and  even  if  I 
cared  about  Skinny  it  wouldn't  do  much  good,  be 
cause  he's  going  to  die — the  doctor  says  so.  But 
I  care  a  lot  about  you  and  he  did  you  a  good  turn. 
I  was  afraid  he  might  die  before  you  had  a  chance 
to  pay  him  back.  So  I  just  sort  of  tried  to  pay  him 
back  for  you " 

All  the  while  he  was  talking  I  could  hardly  hear 
what  he  was  saying  and  there  was  one  word  ring 
ing  through  my  head. 

It  was  the  word  slacker. 


THE  TWO  CROSSES 

I  GUESS  maybe  I'd  better  tell  you  about  Skinny 
now,  so  you'll  know  all  about  who  he  is.  Before 
I  was  a  scout  I  used  to  call  him  Wash-board,  be 
cause  he  was  so  skinny  you  could  have  used  his 
ribs  for  a  wash-board.  I  guess  I  used  to  think 
that  was  funny,  but,  gee,  when  you  get  to  be  a 
scout  you  find  out  what  real  fun  is  and  you  don't 
call  names  like  that. 

He  always  lived  down  in  Barrel  Alley  and  his 
mother  goes  out  washing.  Once  Skinny's  father 
hit  him  on  the  head  and  it  made  him  queer  like. 
But  he  got  better  mostly.  Only  he  was  always 
afraid  of  people  after  that.  His  father  went  away 
and  got  killed.  Sometimes  Skinny  sold  papers  at 
the  station,  but  he  was  always  scared  of  people, 
especially  rich  fellows.  How  should  I  know  he 
was  interested  in  Scouts?  He  didn't  have  much 
to  eat,  I  guess.  Anyway  Jake  Holden  was  a  good 
friend  to  him  and  he  wasn't  scared  of  Jake.  I 
guess  maybe  he  had  consumption. 

112 


THE  TWO  CROSSES  113 

He  didn't  wake  up  again  then,  anyway  he  didn't 
open  his  eyes,  and  as  soon  as  his  mother  came  home 
from  her  work  Westy  and  I  went  home.  I  wasn't 
thinking  anything  about  the  house-boat  now.  I 
was  only  thinking  about  Skinny  and  I  had  my 
mind  all  made  up,  too.  I  didn't  say  anything  to 
Westy,  but  on  the  way  home  I  decided  what  I  was 
going  to  do. 

It  was  the  scout  trail  that  took  me  to  that  tene 
ment  house  and  if  you  follow  a  scout  trail  you're 
safe.  That  scout  trail  knew  what  it  was  doing  all 
right.  There  wasn't  any  trail  leading  to  the  house 
boat.  Stick  to  your  trail.  That's  the  rule.  And 
you  can  bet  your  life  I  was  going  to  stick  to  that 
trail  now.  If  that  trail  was  going  to  lead  to  the 
cemetery,  all  right — that's  what  I  said.  But  I 
had  picked  up  Skinny  McCord's  trail  and  I  made 
up  my  little  old  mind  that  I  was  going  to  hang  on 
to  it  and  follow  it  like  a  blood-hound. 

That  night  we  were  going  to  have  a  special 
troop  meeting  to  decide  about  chipping  in  money 
for  our  cruise  up  to  camp,  because  we  didn't  have 
much  left  on  account  of  spending  so  much  for 
paint  and  lumber  and  different  things. 

I  knew  how  the  fellows  and  Mr.  Ellsworth 
would  be  feeling  about  me  not  coming  back  and 


ii4  ROY  BLAKELEY 

Westy  not  showing  up,  and  I  knew  how  the  Silver 
Foxes  would  feel,  especially.  But  anyway,  I  had 
my  mind  all  made  up.  After  supper  my  sister 
Ruth  played  a  game  of  tennis  with  Westy  and 
while  they  were  playing  I  went  up  to  my  room  and 
got  out  the  Scout  Handbook.  Then  I  read  the 
scout  laws  over,  but  anyway  I  knew  them.  After 
I  had  read  them  all  I  made  two  crosses  with  a  lead 
pencil,  one  alongside  of  one  law  and  one  along 
side  another.  Then  I  put  the  Handbook  in 
my  pocket  and  went  downstairs. 

It  was  time  to  go  to  the  meeting  now  and  so  wi 
started  off. 

"You  seem  awful  funny,"  Westy  said;  "what's 
the  matter?" 

"It's  patrol  business,"  I  said;  "it's  about — " 

"Is  it  about  me?"  he  asked  me. 

"It's  about  my  patrol,"  I  said;  "it's  about  the 
Silver  Foxes.  Did  you  ever  hear  that  a  Silver 
Fox  never  makes  a  mistake  about  a  trail?" 

"No,"  he  said,  kind  of  puzzled. 

"You  want  to  read  up  natural  history,"  I  told 
him.  "A  silver  fox  knows  the  tracks  of  all  the 
different  kinds  of  animals  and  if  he  could  talk  fee 
could  tell  you  about  them." 


THE  TWO  CROSSES  115 

"Too  bad  he  can't  talk,"  Westy  said,  sort  of 
jollying  me. 

"/  can  talk,"  I  said.  Then  after  a  minute  I 
*aid,  "It's  about  the  Elk  patrol,  too." 

He  didn't  say  any  more  and  pretty  soon  we  got 
*o  the  troop-room — that's  in  the  Public  Library. 
We  were  a  little  late,  but  I  wanted  it  that  way, 
so  we  wouldn't  have  any  talk  with  anyone  before 
the  meeting  started.  Everyone  said  "hello"  to  us, 
but  they  were  the  coldest  "helloes"  you  ever  saw. 

"If  I'd  known  it  was  going  to  be  as  cold  as  this, 
I'd  have  worn  my  sweater,"  I  told  Westy.  Even 
my  own  patrol  didn't  say  anything  to  us,  and  they 
all  looked  kind  of  glum.  I  heard  Will  Dawson 
say  something  about  our  patrol  being  "in  bad,"  but 
I  didn't  pay  any  attention — I  should  worry. 

Now  the  way  we  sit  at  the  beginning  of  troop 
meetings  is  in  three  rows  and  each  patrol  is  one 
row.  The  patrol  leader  always  sits  at  the  right 
hand  end  of  the  row  and  Mr.  Ellsworth  sits  in 
front.  If  there  are  any  local  councilmen  they 
sit  in  front  with  him.  But  it  doesn't  look  much  like 
that  after  things  get  started,  I  can  tell  you  that. 
That  night  Mr.  Bennett  was  there,  too.  He's 
on  the  Local  Council. 

When  Westy  and  I  went  up  to  our  row  to  sit 


in  6  ROY  BLAKELEY 

down,  nobody  said  anything  to  us  at  all,  not  even 
the  fellows  in  our  own  patrol.  Ralph  Warner  was 
sitting  in  my  seat  at  the  end,  and  he  said,  kind  of 
cold  like,  "Do  you  want  to  sit  down  here?" 

"Of  course  I  want  to  sit  down  there,"  I  told 
him;  "I'm  the  leader  of  this  patrol  Where 
should  I  sit?"  So  he  moved  over  kind  of  glum  and 
I  sat  down  in  my  chair  at  the  end,  right  beside  the 
Silver  Fox  emblem  that  stands  in  a  rack  on  the 
floor.  Maybe  they  had  an  idea  of  electing  a  new 
patrol  leader,  hey?  I  should  worry. 

As  soon  as  we  were  all  ready  Mr.  Ellsworth 
called  the  roll  and  Westy  and  I  were  marked  late. 
Then  Mr.  Ellsworth  read  a  couple  of  notices  and 
said  the  special  meeting  was  called  for  sev* 
eral  purposes.  He  said  one  was  to  draft  a  letter 
of  gratitude  to  Mr.  Donnelle  for  loaning  us  the 
boat,  and  one  was  to  decide  (he  always  says  de 
termine,  but  decide  is  easier)  how  much  each 
scout  could  chip  in  for  the  expenses  of  our  cruise 
up  the  Hudson  to  Catskill  Landing. 

Then  he  looked  very  serious  and  said  one  of 
the  patrols  had  all  signed  a  petition  (all  except 
two  absentees,  he  said)  asking  him  to  order  an 
election  in  that  patrol  for  a  new  patrol  leader. 

"I  have  been  asked,"  that's  just  what  he  said, 


THE  TWO  CROSSES  117, 

*'I  have  been  asked  to  administer  a  troop  repri 
mand  to  a  member  of  the  patrol  of  the  Silver 
Foxes  for  absenting  himself  throughout  the  day 
from  urgent  troop  duties  with  no  better  excuse 
than  a  desire  to  play  baseball.  This  I  shall  have 
to  do.  The  new  election  is  asked  for  in  order  that 
a  patrol  Jeader  may  be  found  who  will  not  leave 
his  patrol  and  his  duties  on  a  mere  pretext  and 
not  return.  I  authorize  this  election.  Meanwhile 
Wesleigh  Martin  will  please  stand  up." 

I  could  see  that  Westy's  face  was  kind  of  white 
and  his  lips  were  tight  together  and  I  knew  be 
didn't  intend  to  say  anything. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

SCOUT  LAW  NUMBER  THREE 

Now,  I  can  tell  you  just  exactly  what  Mr.  Ells* 
worth  said,  because  I  remembered  it  and  I  wrote 
it  down  right  afterwards.  First  I  was  afraid 
Westy  would  say  something  and  I  didn't  want  him. 
to,  because — well,  you'll  see.  So  now  I'll  copy 
what  Mr.  Ellsworth  said.  Oh,  jiminy,  you  could 
hear  a  pin  drop,  everyone  was  so  quiet.  He  said: 

"Wesleigh  (that's  Westy,  you  know),  I  have 
been  asked  by  your  own  patrol  to  give  you  this 
public  reproof,  and  I  speak  for  the  whole  troop  as 
well,  when  I  remind  you  that  your  action  to-day 
in  absenting  yourself  and  thereby  avoiding  your 
share  of  the  work  we  had  undertaken  to  do,  was 
unscoutlike  and  unworthy  of  you,  and  unworthy  of 
the  patrol  whose  fine  traditions  you  were  bound  to 
guard  and  support.  You  knew  that  to  be  enti 
tled  to  your  share  of  the  pleasure  of  this  purposed 
cruise,  you  would  have  to  do  your  share  of  the 
work.  You  knew  that  to-day  was  set  apart  for 
concerted  effort  bv  the  whole  troop  to  make  this 

118 


SCOUT  LAW  NUMBER  THREE    119 

boat  ready  for  starting  next  Saturday.  You  knew 
that  at  the  urgent  request  of  some  of  you  boys  I 
arranged  to  spend  the  day  helping  you.  You  were 
one  of  the  boys  who  asked  me  to  do  this.  You 
remember  ? 

"We  meet  here  to-night  after  a  hard  day's  work, 
pleasant  as  work  always  is,  but  hard  nevertheless. 
iYou  will  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that 
you  will  occupy  a  bunk  which  your  companions 
have  made  ready  for  you,  and  that  you  did  not 
yourself  hammer  so  much  as  a  single  nail.  Arthur 
Van  Arlen  and  Wigley  Weigand,  both  weary  and 
one  lame,  after  a  frightful  experience,  were  here 
and  helped  to  make  the  boat  safe  and  comfortable 
for  you.  They  were  loyal  to  the  Raven  Patrol. 
I  hope  you  may  be  moved  to  appreciate  the  in 
terest  and  spirit  which  they  displayed  while  you 
were  playing  ball. 

"When  you  have  an  opportunity,  Wesleigh,  I 
would  like  to  have  you  read  the  scout  laws  again 
and  bear  in  mind  particularly  your  obligation  of 
loyalty  to  your  scoutmaster,  which  of  course, 
means  to  your  scout  duties — your  troop  and  your 
patrol.  I  kept  my  word  with  you  to-day  and  you 
did  not  keep  your  word  with  me.  The  house-boat 
is  ready  for  our  cruise,  and  I  hope  that  you,  along 


120  ROY  BLAKELEY 

with  all  the  members  of  the  troop  will  find  the  trip 
enjoyable.  That  is  all,  Wesleigh,  unless  you  have 
something  to  say." 

Oh,  gee,  you  should  have  heard  the  silence — 1 
don't  mean  heard  it — but  there  wasn't  a  sound. 

Then  Westy  said,  "I  haven't  got  anything  t&. 
say."  And  then  he  sat  down. 

I  knew  that  it  was  time  then  for  me  to  do  what 
I  wanted  to  do,  but  I  couldn't  get  up  because  I  felt 
all  shaky.  I  was  holding  to  the  pole  of  th'e  Silver 
Fox  emblem  that  was  right  beside  me,  and,  oh, 
cracky,  I  felt  funny.  All  of  a  sudden  I  heard  Mrc 
Ellsworth  say  that  he  wouldn't  say  anything  t« 
Roy  Blakeley  because  the  patrol  was  going  tc 
have  an  election  and  then  I  heard  Will  Dawson, 
of  my  patrol,  say  under  his  breath,  sort  of,  that 
there'd  be  only  one  fellow  to  vote  for  me,  and  I 
knew  he  meant  Westy  Martin.  Gee,  I'm  glad  I 
heard  him  say  that  because  it  gave  me  a  kind  of  an 
idea  what  to  say  and  it  made  me  mad,  and  when 
you're  mad  you  have  courage — you  know  what  I 
mean,  you  can  get  up  and  talk.  Jiminy,  I  knew  I 
couldn't  make  a  speech  like  Mr.  Ellsworth  with 
all  long  words,  and  besides  I  had  to  be  careful 
that  it  didn't  seem  as  if  I  was  just  answering  him 
back. 


SCOUT  LAW  NUMBER  THREE       121 

So  then  I  grabbed  tight  hold  >f  the  emblem 
pole  because,  I  don't  know,  it  seemed  to  give  me 
courage  kind  of,  and  it  was  my  emblem  and  my 
pati^1  for  a  few  minutes  yet,  anyway.  But  oh, 
didn't  my  hand  tremble.  Anyway  I  could  see  that 
Mr.  Bennett  was  sort  of  listening  and  I  wasn't 
so  much  scared  after  I  got  up. 

This  is  what  I  said,  only  I  didn't  say  it  as  well 
as  it  sounds  here  on  account  of  being  nervous,  but 
I  should  worry  as  long  as  I  knew  I  was  right,  hey? 

"I  heard  a  fellow  in  my  patrol  say  just  now" 
that's  the  way  I  began,  "that  there  is  only  one 
Silver  Fox  would  vote  for  me  because  I  went  away 
and  didn't  come  back.  I  know  he  meant  Westy 
and  he's  the  one  fellow  I'd  want  to  vote  for  me, 
anyway,  you  can  bet.  I  don't  care  what  happens, 
I  don't,  if  Westy  will  only  vote  for  me.  Because 
he's  one  real  scout  and  none  of  the  rest  of  you 
know  anything  about  scouting  alongside  of  him — 
you  don't.  And  anyway  I  don't  care  so  much  if 
I'm  not  leader  any  more,  if  I  could  only  be  sure 
you'd  elect  him  leader — " 

"He  stands  a  tall  chance,"  I  heard  a  fellow  say. 

"About  as  tall  as  Pee-wee,"  another  fellow  said. 
He  was  trying  to  be  smart. 

"Maybe  he'll  have  a  tall  chance,  as  tall  as  the 


122  ROY  BLAKELEY 

Woolworth  Building,"  I  said;  "you'd  better  keep 
still.  I  want  to  ask  Mr.  Ellsworth  if  I  can  say 
something — while  I'm  still  Silver  Fox  leader,  ''^at's 
all." 

"Surely  you  may,  Roy,"  he  said,  kind  of 
pleasant. 

"Because  there's  one  more  thing  I'm  going  to 
say  for  my  patrol.  I — I  started  that  patrol 
and—" 

Oh,  gee,  then  I  broke  right  down,  not  exactly 
crying,  but  you  know,  there  was  something  in  my 
throat  and  I  just  couldn't  talk  for  a  minute. 

"Go  on,  Roy,"  Mr.  Ellsworth  said,  and  he  was 
awfully  nice,  I  have  to  admit  that. 

So  I  said  how  I  started  that  patrol  and  did  the 
best  I  could  and  always  told  the  fellows  to  be  loyal 
and  how  disgrace  spills  all  over  just  like  Mr.  Ells 
worth  himself  told  us. 

"Anyway,  Mr.  Ellsworth,"  I  said,  "I  can't  say 
it  as  good  as  I'd  like  to,  because — you  know — " 

"Take  your  time,  Roy,"  he  said. 

"Anyway,  you  remember  how  you  spoke  about 
the  laws."  I  was  holding  tight  to  the  Silver  Fox- 
standard  and  it  kind  of  helped  me  to  speak,  and  I 
guess  pretty  soon  my  voice  didn't  shake.  "I  know 
all  the  laws,"  I  said,  "and  I  think  more  about  them 


SCOUT  LAW  NUMBER  THREE       123 

than  I  do  about  stunts  and  adventures  and  things 
>» 

"How  about  baseball?"  a  fellow  said,  but  I 
didn't  pay  any  attention  to  him,  and  Mr.  Ells* 
worth  frowned  at  him. 

"And  only  to-night  I  looked  at  them,"  I  said, 
"and  I  made  marks  next  to  two  of  them."  Then 
I  fumbled  in  my  pocket  and  got  out  the  Hand-, 
book,  and  I  reminded  myself  of  a  lawyer.  Any 
way  I  could  see  Mr.  Bennett  smile  at  Mr.  Ells 
worth.  "Gee,  I  wouldn't  say  anything  against  the 
iaws,  that's  one  sure  thing,"  I  said,  "because 
they're  all  dandy  laws,  you  can  bet.  But  maybe 
a  fellow  might  not  know  which  one  to  obey  be 
cause  he  can't  obey  them  all  at  once,  can  he  ?" 

Mr.  Ellsworth  said  he  didn't  know  about  that 
and  he  looked  kind  of  surprised.  I  should  worry, 
I  wasn't  scared  now.  "Suppose  he's  on  his  way 
to  obey  Law  8  and  keep  his  word  and  be  loyal  to 
his  troop  and  his  scoutmaster,"  I  said.  "That's 
Law  8,  isn't  it?" 

Mr.  Ellsworth  looked  surprised  and  said, 
"Yes."  And  Mr.  Bennett  was  smiling  with  an 
awful  funny  kind  of  a  smile. 

"And  suppose  while  he's  on  his  way  he  runs 
plunk  into  another  law.  Good  night!  What's  he 


124  ROY  BLAKELEY 

going  to  do?  Maybe  you  don't  know  which  law 
I  mean  by  another  one.  It's  number  3,  and  I  can 
say  it  without  even  looking  at  the  book.  Even  if 
they  elect — " 

I  guess  Mr.  Ellsworth  could  see  my  voice  was 
trembling,  because  he  said,  "Take  your  time,  Roy, 
you  have  us  interested.*' 

I  have  to  admit  I  was  feeling  bad,  but  anyway 
I  said  the  law  right  off  without  looking  at  the  book. 

3.    A  SCOUT  IS  HELPFUL. 

He  must  be  prepared  at  any  time  to  save  life,  help 
injured  persons,  and  share  the  home  duties.  He 
must  do  at  least  one  good  turn  to  somebody  every 
day. 

"Maybe  you  never  noticed  that  the  part  about 
good  turns  is  printed  in  italics.  You  know  what 
italics  mean — you  learn  that  in  the  Second  Grade. 
It  means  that  that  special  thing  is  emphasized, 
see?" 

Mr.  Ellsworth  was  smiling  a  little,  but  anyway 
he  was  listening  and  so  was  Mr.  Bennett.  Geet 
I  didn't  see  anything  to  smile  at. 

Now  I  have  to  admit  that  I  got  kind  of  ex 
cited  and  I  didn't  know  much  what  I  was  saying* 


SCOUT  LAW  NUMBER  THREE 

Sometimes  I  had  to  stop  on  account  of  that  lump 
being  in  my  throat.  But  anyway,  I  kept  on  and  I 
held  on  tight  to  my  emblem — the  Silver  Fox  em 
blem. 

"So  that's  what  I  mean,"  I  said,  "and  this 
morning  Westy  was  on  his  way  to  help  on  the 
house-boat  and  he  met"  (oh,  jiminies,  I  guess  I 
didn't  know  how  I  was  talking  now,  I  was  so  ex 
cited)  "and  he  met  Skinny  McCord's  mother  and 
she  told  him  about  Skinny  being  sick  on  account 
of  a  good  turn  he  did  for  me — keeping  Jake 
Holden  from  going  to  my  house — and  she  asked 
him  to  go  up  and  stay  with  him  and  he  didn't 
think  any  more  about  the  house-boat,  and  I'm 
glad  he  didn't,  and  I  told  him  that,  and  I'm  his 
patrol  leader  yet,  anyway.  I  tell  him  that,  I  do! 
And  he  went  home  and  got  his  baseball  and  his 
catching  mit  and  it  cost  a  dollar  and  seventy-five 
cents,  and  he  took  them  to  Skinny  just  so  as  he'd 
kind  of  forgot  being  sick.  Westy  saved  up  to 
get  that  mit  and  I  know  all  about  it.  And  he 
stayed  all  day  with  Skinny  and  the  doctor  says, 
he  says  Skinny  has  got  to  die,  but  anyway  Westy 
stayed  all  day  with  him — that's  what  he  did.  And 
I'm  glad  you  fellows  are  going  to  elect  a  new; 
leader  if  you  want  him  to  reprimand  Westy,  be- 


126  ROY  BLAKELEY 

cause  you'd  never  get  me  to  do  it,  I  can  tell  you 
that!" 

Oh,  crinkums,  there  wasn't  a  sound.  It  had  to 
stop  because  I  was  gulping  and  all  excited,  but  I 
started  again,  you  can  bet. 

"And  there's  only  one  thing  more  I've  got  to 
say,"  I  told  them.  "I  got  on  the  trail — I  mean 
Skinny's  trail.  And  it  took  me  to  his  house  in 
Barrel  Alley.  I  picked  up  his  trail  down  at  Little 
Landing  and  it  had  the  scout's  pathfinder  sign 
printed  in  the  mud.  And  I — I'm — I'm  a  scout, 
I  am,  I  don't  care  what  you  say,  and  I  followed 
it.  And  maybe,  for  all  you  know,  it  was  put  there 
for  me  to  follow — maybe.  It  took  me  to  where 
a  fellow  was  sick,  it  did,  and  it  showed  me  one  of 
my  own — one  of  the  Silver  Foxes,  doing  a  good 
turn  to  pay  Skinny  back  for  the  good  turn  he  did 
for  me.  And  I  stayed  there  to  help  and  I  forgot 
all  about  the  house-boat,  and  I'm  glad  I  did.  And 
I  hope  that  whoever  these  fellows  elect,  he  won't 
let  them  chip  in  for  the  cruise,  but  I  hope  he'll 
have  them  chip  in  to  send  Skinny  up  to  the  country 
— I  don't  care  what  the  doctor  says.  Once  a 
doctor  said  that — he  said  that  my  father — " 

And  that's  all  I  had  a  chance  to  say.  Gee,  I 
couldn't  tell  you  what  happened  next.  All  I  know 


SCOUT  LAW  NUMBER  THREE       127 

Is,  I  heard  my  Scout  Handbook  go  kerflop  on 
the  floor  and  Vic  Norris  of  the  Ravens  grabbed 
the  Silver  Fox  emblem  right  out  of  my  hand  and 
began  waving  it.  All  of  a  sudden  I  saw  Westy  and 
he  didn't  say  anything  only  put  his  arm  around 
my  shoulder  and  he  started  to  say  something  and, 
oh,  I  don't  know,  he  just  couldn't.  Then  I  heard 
a  fellow  asking  him  what  was  the  matter,  because 
he  was  husky,  kind  of,  and  his  eyes  shiny — you 
know.  And  he  said  he  had  a  cold.  Oh,  boy  I 

"He  caught  cold  from  drinking  out  of  a  damp 
glass,"  Doc  Carson  shouted.  Honest,  you  couldn't 
hear  yourself  think.  And  Pee-wee — g-o-o-d  night  1 

Then  Mr.  Ellsworth  held  up  his  hand  and  we 
all  quieted  down. 

"Before  we  go  any  further,"  he  said,  "and  while 
our  lungs  are  working  overtime  I  want  every 
member  of  the  Raven  Patrol  and  every  member 
of  the  Elk  Patrol  to  give  three  cheers  for  the 
Silver  Foxes,  scouts,  real  scouts,  every  one  of  them, 
and  for  their  leader,  Roy  Blakeley.  After  that 
you  can  hold  your  election." 


THE  END  OF  THE  MEETING 

OH,  boy,  some  excitement!  "Excuse  me  while 
I  blush,"  I  said.  For  they  were  all  shouting  and 
!Pee-wee  was  on  top  of  the  table  dancing  and  yell 
ing,  "Hurrah  for  the  Solid  Silver  Foxes!  Three 
cheers  for  the  Sterling  Silver  Foxes!"  Believe 
me,  that  kid  is  self -starting,  but  he  isn't  self  stop 
ping. 

Then  I  told  them  that  I  had  something  more  to 
say,  and  they  shouted  it  was  their  turn  to  do  the 
saying,  and  believe  me,  they  did — with  something 
left  over.  At  last  Mr.  Ellsworth  got  us  throttled 
down  and  he  told  me  to  say  what  I  had  to  say,  be 
cause  Mr.  Bennett  had  a  word  or  two  for  us. 

So  I  told  them  my  idea  that  I'd  had  in  my  head 
all  the  time,  and  you  just  wait  and  see  how  many 
adventures  it  led  to.  That's  one  good  thing 
about  good  turns;  they  most  always  start  some 
thing.  Already  Pee-wee  was  started. 

I  told  them  I  thought  instead  of  keeping  Tom 
Slade's  place  open,  kind  of  in  memory  of  him,  it 

128 


THE  END  OF  THE  MEETING    129 

would  be  better  to  put  Skinny  McCord  in  that 
vacant  place  and  take  him  up  to  Temple  Camp  and 
help  him  to  get  well.  Then  I  told  them  how  hff 
read  the  Handbook,  and  how  he  was  crazy  about 
scouting,  only  he  was  scared  of  the  fellows  be 
cause  he  was  so  poor.  And  then  I  said  that  find 
ings  is  keepings  and  that  Skinny  belonged  to  the 
Silver  Foxes,  and  they  would  make  a  present  of 
him  to  the  Elks  on  account  of  Tom  Slade.  "Any 
way,"  I  said,  "when  Tom  gets  back  he'll  be  old 
enough  for  assistant  scoutmaster,  so  it's  all  right." 

Then  Mr.  Ellsworth  said,  "Very  good,"  and 
that  Councilman  Bennett  had  something  to  say. 
This  is  what  he  said,  because  Mr.  Ellsworth  wrote 
it  out  for  me,  and  he  remembered  almost  just  how 
it  was.  Oh,  but  he's  one  fine  man — Mr.  Bennett 
— he's  on  some  kind  of  a  board  and  he  helped 
build  the  hospital  and  he  likes  the  scouts  and  he 
wishes  he  could  shin  up  a  tree — he  said  so.  So 
this  is  what  he  said. 

"My  young  friends,  I  have  listened  with  a  good 
deal  of  something  or  other  (it's  too  much  bother 
to  spell  it  out)  to  our  young  leader  of  the  Silver 
Foxes,  and  I  must  say  that  the  Silver  Foxes  are 
solid  fourteen  karat  gold.  I  am  a  lawyer  myself 


130  ROY  BLAKELEY 

and  I  wish  to  express  my  professional  admiration 
of  the  way  Leader  Blakeley  presented  his  case." 

"The  pleasure  is  mine,"  I  said  under  my  breath, 
because  I  just  couldn't  help  it. 

Then  he  said  like  this — he  said,  "If  Skinny  Mc- 
Cord  wishes  to  cast  his  lot  with  such  boys  as  these, 
he  shall  not  find  the  means  lacking.  I  will  fur 
nish  his  suit  and  such  sundries  as  he  needs.  I 
agree  with  Leader  Blakeley  that  doctors  are  some 
times  mistaken.  Let  us  hope  it  may  be  the  case 
in  this  instance.  The  cruise  to  camp  must  be  made ; 
Jet  nothing  interfere  with  that.  If  some  of  you 
boys  wish  to  go  into  the  city  in  the  morning  you 
may  have  the  pleasure  of  purchasing  Skinny's  out 
fit.  I  would  suggest  that  the  Silver  Foxes  do  this 
in  order  that  their  gift  may  go  complete  to  their 
comrades  of  the  Elks.  I  think  I  have  your  scout 
master's  permission  to  do  this." 

"Sure  you  have !"  Pee-wee  shouted. 

"We'll  go  in  on  the  9  A.  M.  train,"  Westy  said. 

"What  time  does  the  9  A.  M.  train  leave?"  Pee- 
wee  shouted.  "Oh,  but  it's  great!"  He  was  half 
crazy. 

"The  nine  o'clock  train  leave  at  8.60,"  I  told 
him,  "and  you  have  to  get  a  transfer — " 

"To  what  line?"  he  shouted. 


THE  END  OF  THE  MEETING      131 

"To  the  clothesline,"  I  said. 

"You  make  me  sick!"  he  yelled,  "You  haven't 
got  any  what-do-you-call-it — hero — something  or 
other—" 

"That  talk  will  have  to  be  strained  through  a 
sieve,"  I  said.  "Don't  mind  him,  Mr.  Bennett, 
somebody's  been  feeding  him  meat.  He  goes  to 
the  movies  too  much.  He's  known  as  the  human 
megaphone.  All  step  up  and  listen  to  the  Raving 
Raven  rave — only  a  dime,  ten  cents,  ladies  and 
gentlemen !" 

Even  Mr.  Bennett  had  to  laugh. 

"Now  all  we've  got  to  have  is  a  girl,"  Pee-wee 
shouted,  "because  we've  got  a  poor  lad — I  mean 
— you  know  what  I  mean — noble  poverty  and  a 
boat  and  heroes  doing  good  turns — " 

"And  Ravens  turning  somersaults,"  I  said. 

"And  all  that,"  he  kept  up,  "and  Roy  foiled  his 
prosecuters — I  mean  persecutors — " 

"You  mean  executers,"  Doc  said. 

"And  all  we  need  now  is  a  heroine,"  Pee-wee 
said,  while  he  danced  up  and  down.  "A  poor  girl 
— I  mean  a  maiden — with  gold  hair — if  we  couM 
only  rescue  one — oh,  wouldn't  it  be  great." 

"Even  if  her  hair  was  only  gold-filled  it  would 
be  something^"  Connie  Bennett  said. 


132  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"You're  crazy!"  Pee-wee  shouted,  "it  shows 
none  of  you  know  anything  about  stories." 

Oh,  jiminy,  I  can't  tell  all  the  stuff  we  shouted. 
You  see,  it  was  just  because  we  were  feeling  so 
good.  And  Mr.  Ellsworth  didn't  try  to  stop  us. 

The  next  chapter  is  about  two  dollars.  I  don't 
mean  it's  worth  that  much.  I  don't  know  what 
I'll  name  it  yet. 

Olive  oil* — that's  the  French  way  to  say,  "So 
long."  Anyway,  it's  something  like  that.  I  should 
worry. 

*Au  revoir  is  probably  what  he  meant. 


CHAPTER  XX 

MOSTLY  ABOUT  SKINNY 

This  chapter  I  am  going  to  fill 
With  some  stuff  about  a  two  dollar 
bill. 

THAT  isn't  so  bad  for  poetry,  is  it?  I  got 
that  idea  out  of  a  story  by  Sir  Walter  Scott — put 
ting  poetry  at  the  top  of  the  chapters.  Mr.  Ells 
worth  says  sometimes  a  fellow  might  get  killed  for 
writing  poetry.  I  should  worry — a  scout  is  brave. 

You  can  bet  that  if  Pee-wee  had  his  way  we'd 
have  all  gone  into  the  city  that  very  night  and 
broken  into  a  store  to  get  Skinny's  outfit.  But  nix 
on  that  hurry  up  business  when  it  comes  to  Mr. 
Ellsworth.  "Scouts  are  not  made  in  a  day,"  he 
said  to  Pee-wee,  "and  the  outfit  doesn't  make  the 
tcout  anyway,  remember  that." 

"Any  more  than  a  merry-go-round  makes  a  good 
turn,"  I  said. 

So  Mr.  Ellsworth  went  to  see  Skinny  and  his 
mother,  and  then  he  went  to  see  the  doctor,  and 

133 


i34  ROY  BLAKELEY 

fee  found  out  that  Skinny  wasn't  going  to  die  right 
then,  but  that  something  was  the  matter  with  his 
lungs,  and  that  he'd  keep  getting  sick  all  the  time 
probably  and  wouldn't  grow  up.  Oh,  boy,  when 
Mr.  Ellsworth  once  gets  on  your  trail,  good  night! 
That's  just  the  way  he  hauled  Tom  Slade  into  the 
troop,  head  over  heels.  And  look  at  Connie  Ben 
nett,  too.  Mr.  Ellsworth  had  to  hypnotize  Con 
nie's  mother  and  now  Connie's  a  first  class  scout. 

After  two  or  three  nights  he  brought  Skinny 
to  meeting,  and  oh,  cracky,  but  that  kid  looked 
bad.  He  just  sat  and  watched  us  do  our  stunts 
and  he  was  scared  when  anybody  spoke  to  him, 
except  Mr.  Ellsworth.  And  he  was  coughing  a 
lot,  too. 

After  the  meeting  Westy  and  I  and  Mr.  Ells 
worth  took  him  home,  and  just  when  we  left  him 
he  asked  us  if  maybe  he'd  live  long  enough  to  get 
the  pathfinder's  badge.  "And  oh,  gee,  it  made  me 
feel  good  the  way  Mr.  Ellsworth  answered  him. 
He  said, 

"Well,  I  can't  exactly  promise  that  because  I 
don't  know  how  long  it  will  take  you  to  win  that 
badge,  but  if  you  think  you  can  win  it  inside  of 
forty  or  fifty  years,  I  think  you'll  be  there  to  grab 
it  when  it  comes."  Oh,  jingoes,  but  we've  got  one 


MOSTLY  ABOUT  SKINNY         135 

dandy  scoutmaster.  I  don't  care  what  you  say,  he's 
the  best  one  in  America.  And  when  he  said  that, 
Skinny  kind  of  smiled  and  then  you  could  see  how 
thin  he  was,  because  the  wrinkles  came  all  around 
his  mouth. 

Well,  on  Saturday  Westy  and  Dorry  Benton 
and  Ralph  Warner  (they're  all  in  my  patrol)  went 
into  the  city  to  get  Skinny's  outfit,  so  we  could 
give  him  a  surprise  at  the  meeting  on  Monday 
night.  I  didn't  go  because  I  wanted  Westy  to 
have  the  say,  and  I  didn't  want  him  to  think  I 
was  butting  in,  because  Skinny  belonged  to  him, 
as  you  might  say.  Besides  I  had  to  cut  the  grass 
so  my  sisters  could  play  tennis  with  Johnny  Wade 
— honest,  that  fellow  is  there  all  the  time.  He's 
got  a  machine,  but  I  never  saw  it.  I  guess  may 
be  it's  a  sewing  machine,  hey? 

Now  I  didn't  know  how  much  money  Mr.  Ben 
nett  gave  Mr.  Ellsworth.  All  I  know  is  that  when 
the  fellows  came  back  they  had  everything  for 
Skinny,  or  most  everything.  Because  they  camq 
up  to  Camp  Solitaire  (that's  the  tent  I  have  on 
our  lawn)  and  we  opened  the  whole  business. 
Pee-wee  was  there  and  the  first  thing  we  knew  he 
was  shouting  that  there  wasn't  any  belt-axe. 

"We  used  all  the  money  we  had,"  Westy  said, 


i36  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"and  it  isn't  worth  while  asking  Mr.  Bennett  for 
any  more,  even  if  there's  one  or  two  things  miss* 
ing." 

Oh,  jiminy,  Pee-wee  went  up  in  the  air.  "Why 
didn't  you  get  a  belt-axe,"  he  shouted;  "don't  you 
know  a  belt-axe  is  the  most  important  thing  of  all  ? 
It's  the  sign  of  the  scout!  It's  more  important 
than  the  uniform." 

"He'd  look  nice  going  down  Main  Street  witk 
a  belt-axe  and  no  uniform,"  I  said ;  "you're  crazy 
on  the  subject  of  belt-axes.  What's  the  matter,  arc 
you  afraid  Hindenberg  is  going  to  invade  Bridge- 
boro?  You  should  worry  about  a  belt-axe.  Wait 
till  he's  a  tenderfoot." 

"That  shows  how  much  you  know  about  scout 
ing,"  he  yelled;  "the  belt-axe  is  the  emblem  of  the 
woods." 

"The  which  ?"  Westy  said. 

"The  emblem  of  the  woods,"  he  hollered  at  the 
top  of  his  voice.  "You  have  to  Have  a  belt-axe 
first  of  all.  It's  more  important  than  the  Hand 
book.  It  means  woodcraft  and — and — and  all 
that  sort  of  stuff !" 

Well,  first  I  just  laughed  at  him  and  jollied  him 
along,  because  I  know  how  crazy  he  is  about  things 
like  that — he'd  wear  every  badge  in  the  Hand* 


MOSTLY  ABOUT  SKINNY         137 

book  on  his  chest  if  he  had  the  chance.  And  he's 
always  getting  new  suits  and  things,  because  his 
father  is  rich.  Pee-wee's  all  right  only  he's  daffy 
ibout  all  the  scout  stuff  that  you  see  in  the  pictures 
and  he  always  has  his  belt-axe  dragging  on  his 
belt,  even  when  he's  home,  as  if  he  expected  to 
chop  down  all  the  telegraph  poles  on  Main  Street. 

"You  have  belt-axes  on  the  brain,"  Westy  told 
him. 

"He's  got  them  on  the  belt  anyway,"  I  said. 

"You  ask  Mr.  Ellsworth  about  it  and  see  what 
he  says,"  Ralph  Warner  said.  "He'll  tell  you  it's 
better  for  Skinny  to  wait  till  he  can  earn  a  little 
money  and  then  buy  a  belt-axe.  There's  time 
enough." 

"Sure  he  would,"  I  said,  because  I  know  just 
how  Mr.  Ellsworth  feels  about  things  like  that. 
And  for  all  I  know,  maybe  he  didn't  want  Skinny 
to  have  everything  at  the  start,  just  so  as  he  would 
be  able  to  get  some  things  all  by  himself  later.  Be 
cause  Mr.  Ellsworth  thinks  that's  the  best  way. 

Of  course,  we  always  jollied  Pee-wee  about  his 
belt-axe  and  about  wearing  his  scout-knife  and  his 
drinking  cup  hanging  from  his  belt  right  home  in 
Bridgeboro,  as  if  he  was  in  South  Africa,  and  Mr. 


138  ROY  BLAKELEY 

Ellsworth  always  said  he  was  the  typical  scout— 
that's  the  word  he  used — typical. 

But  now  I  began  to  think  maybe  it  would  cause 
some  trouble  and  I  hoped  he  wouldn't  be  giving 
Skinny  any  of  that  kind  of  talk.  But  he  did  just 
the  same,  and  it  made  a  lot  of  trouble.  Pee-wee's 
all  right,  but  I  don't  care  if  he  knows  what  I  said, 
because  it's  true. 

On  Monday  we  had  it  fixed  for  Skinny  to  come 
up  to  Camp  Solitaire,  and  Westy  and  I  would 
teach  him  some  scuff  out  of  the  Handbook. 
Then  we  were  going  to  give  him  the  new  stuff  so 
he  could  put  it  on,  because  we  wanted  him  to  feel 
good — you  know  what  I  mean —  when  he  went  to 
meeting.  We  didn't  want  him  to  feel  different 
from  the  other  fellows.  But  usually  we  don't  do 
that  until  a  fellow  takes  the  oath  first. 

Oh,  boy,  but  wasn't  he  proud  when  we  put  the 
khaki  suit  on  him,  and  fixed  the  hat  on  his  head. 
He  smiled  in  that  funny  way  he  had  that  always 
made  me  feel  kind  of  bad,  because  it  made  his 
face  look  all  thin.  And  he  was  awful  bashful  and 
scared,  but  anyway,  he  was  proud,  I  could  see  that. 

So  then  I  opened  the  Handbook  to  page  59, 
where  there's  a  picture  of  a  scout  standing  straight, 
making  the  full  salute,  and  I  told  him  he  should 


MOSTLY  ABOUT  SKINNY         139 

stand  straight  and  try  to  look  just  like  that.  He 
said,  "I  ain't  fat  enough,"  but  I  told  him  not  to 
mind,  but  just  to  look  at  that  picture  and  he'd 
know  how  he  looked  as  a  boy  scout. 

"How  soon  will  I  be  one  ?"  he  said.  And  I  told 
him  pretty  soon. 

Now  I  thought  about  that  picture  early  in  the 
morning  and  I  made  up  my  mind  I  would  show  it 
to  him  when  he  got  dressed  up.  You  can  bet  he 
didn't  look  very  much  like  it  but  a  lot  I  cared  about 
that,  as  long  as  it  made  him  feel  good.  So  early 
in  the  morning  before  he  came,  I  took  my  two 
dollar  bill  (that's  my  allowance  my  father  always 
gives  me  Monday  morning)  and  put  it  in  the 
Handbook  at  page  59,  so  that  I  could  find  the 
place  all  right. 

After  I  showed  the  picture  to  Skinny  I  shut  the 
Handbook  because  I  wouldn't  need  it  any  more 
and  I  laid  the  two  dollar  bill  down  on  the  table  in 
a  hurry,  because  I  wanted  to  straighten  Skinny's 
belt  and  fix  his  collar  right  and  make  him  look 
as  good  as  I  could.  Anyway  I  laid  an  oar-lock 
on  the  bill  so  it  wouldn't  blow  away.  I've  got 
two  nickel-plated  oar-locks  that  my  patrol  gave 
me  on  troop  birthday,  and  I  keep  them  in  my  tent 
except  when  I  go  to  camp. 


ii4o  ROY  BLAKELEY 

Westy  was  telling  Skinny  how  fine  he  looked 
and,  oh,  gee,  Skinny  was  happy,  you  could  see 
that.  Of  course,  he  didn't  look  very  good,  I  have 
to  admit  it,  but  he  had  a  smile  a  mile  long. 
"You're  all  right,"  I  told  him,  "all  you  have  to  do 
is  to  stand  up  straight  and  think  about  scouting 
and  the  oath  and  the  laws,  and  then  you'll  look 
like  one." 

Then  he  said,  "I  have  to  have  one  of  those  axes, 
'don't  I?" 

"You  should  worry  about  an  axe,"  I  said;  "you 
didn't  see  one  in  the  picture  did  you?" 

"Wasn't  it  because  the  boy  in  the  picture  was 
facing  me,  and  you  wear  the  axe  in  back,  don't 
you?" 

"Don't  you  worry,"  I  told  him,  "I  know  that  fel 
low  in  the  picture  and  he  hasn't  got  one  on." 

"One  of  your  scout  fellows  says  you  have  to 
have  one,"  he  said,  kind  of  timid. 

"Good  night!"  I  said  to  Westy,  "Pee-wee's 
been  at  it." 

"He  knows,  too,"  Skinny  said. 

"You  mean  that  little  fellow?"  I  said.  "Has 
he  been  talking  to  you?" 

"Yes,"  he  said. 

"Forget  it,"  I  told  him;  "if  that  kid  had  his 


MOSTLY  ABOUT  SKINNY         141 

picture  taken  he'd  stand  with  his  back  to  the 
camera  so  as  to  show  his  belt-axe.  If  he  had 
the  Gold  Cross  he'd  pin  it  on  the  end  of  his  nose, 
so  everybody'd  see  it.  The  principal  thing  to  wear 
is  the  scout  smile,  you  take  it  from  me.  Whea  you 
see  Mr.  Ellsworth  to-night  you  ask  him  about  the 
belt-axe  and  go  by  what  he  says.  That's  the  one 
to  go  to — your  scoutmaster." 

"But  anyway  it's  in  the  book  about  the  axe,"  he 
said,  and  oh,  gee,  I  could  see  how  he  fell  for  that 
axe.  I  don't  know,  it  was  something  about  it,  I 
suppose,  "It's  all  right  for  a  tree  to  fall  for  an  axe, 
but  don't  you"  I  said.  That  was  a  joke. 

"You  got  to  have  one  when  you  go  chopping 
trees,  haven't  you?"  he  asked  me. 

"You  forget  it,"  I  said,  and  I  decided  I'd  give 
Pee-wee  a  good  bawling  out  after  the  meeting. 

Then  I  started  straightening  Skinny's  suit  and 
telling  him  how  swell  he  looked  and  how  he  must 
always  take  off  his  hat  to  ladies.  He  was  in 
terested  all  right,  but  I  could  see  how  the  belt- 
axe  kind  of  had  him,  and  I  suppose  it  was  because 
it  was  bright  and  shiny  and  a  weapon,  sort  of. 
That's  the  way  it  is  with  lots  of  fellows  whea 
they  start  being  scouts. 

We  tried  to  get  him  to  go  in  the  house  to  sup* 


142  ROY  BLAKELEY 

per  with  us  and  then  go  to  the  meeting,  but  he  was 
kind  of  scared  and  wouldn't.  I  guess  it  was  be 
cause  I  live  in  a  big  house  and  because  my  father 
is  rich — but  anyway,  he  never  acts  that  way,  that's 
one  sure  thing.  And,  gee,  nobody  can  say  Ruth 
and  Marjorie  wouldn't  have  been  nice  to  him  too. 

So  we  left  him  in  the  tent  and  told  him  to  read 
the  Handbook,  but  to  be  sure  to  go  home  and 
get  his  supper  in  time  to  be  at  the  meeting  that 
evening.  We  made  him  the  full  salute  just  for 
fun,  and  oh,  didn't  he  smile  and  look  proud.  I 
bet  he  was  proud  going  up  Main  Street  too. 

"I'd  like  to  get  my  hands  on  that  kid,"  I  said 
to  Westy,  as  we  went  across  the  lawn;  "he  makes 
me  sick  with  his  heroes  and  his  noble  rags  and 
his  belt-axes.  He's  got  that  poor  kid's  brain  full 
of  fancy  stuff  before  he's  even  a  sqout." 

"That's  just  like  him,"  Westy  said,  "but  he'll 
get  over  it." 

''Emblem  of  the  woods/''  I  said.  "Did  you 
hear  that?" 

"I  guess  he  told  Skinny  we  were  going  to  chop 
down  some  saplings  to-morrow  for  stanchions  on 
the  boat,"  Westy  said. 

"Goodness  knows  what  he  didn't  tell  him,"  I 


MOSTLY  ABOUT  SKINNY         143 

said,  "Skinny  will  be  chopping  down  all  the  fence 
rails  in  Barrel  Alley  if  Pee-wee  has  his  way." 

Oh,  boy,  we  had  huckleberry  pie  for  supper, 
and  didn't  Westy  and  I  have  two  helpings! 
"There's  only  one  thing  scouts  like  about  huckle 
berry  pie,"  my  father  said,  "and  that's  the  taste 
of  it." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

SOMETHING  MISSING 

AFTER  supper  Westy  and  I  started  for  troop 
meeting.  It  was  getting  dark  fast  and  we  went 
scout-pace  down  the  hill,  because  after  all  that 
had  happened  you  bet  we  didn't  want  to  be  late. 
No,  siree. 

All  the  while  we  were  talking  about  just  what  I 
ought  to  say  when  I  presented  Skinny  to  the  Elks, 
because  that's  what  we  were  going  to  do  that 
night.  And  I  was  the  one  to  do  it,  because  I  was 
patrol  leader.  Westy  had  a  blue  ribbon,  because 
that's  the  Elks'  color,  and  he  was  going  to  pin  it 
on  Skinny  with  an  express  tag  that  he  got  that  day. 
He  had  it  all  written  nice  and  neat  on  the  tag. 

From  the  Silver  Foxes  to  the  Elks. 
Handle  with  Care. 

I  told  him  to  put  prepaid  on  it,  too,  and  then 
he  said  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  put  some  thrift 
stamps  on  Skinny's  face.  Jiminy,  that  fellow 

[Westy  has  some  crazy  ideas. 

144 


SOMETHING  MISSING  145 

"Believe  me,  it'll  be  great,"  he  said. 

"The  Elks  will  have  some  training  to  do,  that's 
one  thing,"  I  said. 

"He'll  learn  soon  enough,  all  right,"  Westy 
answered. 

"I  guess  it  would  be  a  good  stunt  to  have  a  flag 
sticking  up  out  of  his  collar,"  I  said;  "he  won't 
mind,  he'll  just  smile.  He  doesn't  get  mad,  that's 
one  good  thing  about  him." 

"I  like  to  see  that  smile,  don't  you?"  Westy 
said,  "it's  kind  of  bashful  like." 

"He's  going  to  pan  out  all  right,"  I  said,  "you 
take  It  from  me." 

Then  we  said  how  it  might  be  good  to  put  him 
in  a  barrel  and  mark  it  "A  gift  from  Barrel  Al 
ley"  but  we  decided  not  to  because  it  might  make 
him  feel  so  kind  of  bashful  and  scared — you  know 
what  I  mean. 

All  the  while  I  knew  what  I  was  going  to  say, 
and  this  was  it: 

Scouts  of  the  Elk  Patrol,  we  present  you  with 
this  testimonial  (my  sister  said  that  was  a  good 
word  to  use)  of  our  steam — I  mean  esteem.  You 
get  fifty  green  trading  stamps  besides.  This  youth 
is  positively  guaranteed  to  grow,  if  kept  in  the  sun 
and  to  win  the  pathfinder's  badge  before  the  sum- 


i46  ROY  BLAKELEY 

mer  is  out.    He  is  made  of  fast  colors  and  will  not 

run — except   when   he's  tracking.     He   should   be 

kept  away  from  explosives  such  as  Pee-wee  Harris. 

With  love  and  kisses  from  the 

Silver  Foxes. 

"Oh,  it  will  be  great!"  Westy  said,  "we'll  do  it 
before  Mr.  Ellsworth  takes  up  the  collection  for 
the  cruise,  hey?" 

"G-o-o-d  night!"  I  said  and  I  stopped  short 

"What's  the  matter?"  Westy  said. 

"I'm  glad  you  said  that,"  I  told  him;  "I  forgot 
my  two  bucks." 

"I'll  go  back,"  Westy  said;  "you  wait  here." 

There  wasn't  any  time  to  stop  him  and  anyway, 
he  can  beat  me  running,  I  have  to  admit  that 

"Where  did  you  leave  it?"  he  called  back. 

"I  laid  it  right  on  the  table,"  I  shouted,  "and 
I  laid  an  oar-lock  on  it  to  keep  it  from  blowing 
away.  Feel  around  and  you'll  get  it  Hurry  up." 

I  saw  him  going  back  up  the  hill  for  all  he  was 
worth  and  then  I  sat  down  beside  the  road  to  wait 
for  him.  I  got  to  thinking  about  the  house-boat 
and  the  fun  we'd  have  cruising  up  the  Hudson  and 
how  Skinny  would  get  fat  and  eat  a  lot,  and  es 
pecially  how  he'd  stare  when  he  saw  Jeb  Rush- 


SOMETHING  MISSING  147 

more.  He's  our  camp  manager,  and  just  wait  till 
you  see  him,  that's  all  /  say. 

But  mostly  I  was  thinking  about  the  fun  we'd 
have  presenting  Skinny  to  the  Elks,  and,  oh,  boy, 
I  could  just  see  Mr.  Ellsworth  laugh  with  that 
funny  laugh  he  has — trying  not  to.  And  you  can 
bet  I  was  glad  we  had  Skinny  started.  Because 
when  a  fellow  once  gets  on  the  trail,  he's  a  goner. 
Oh,  bibbie,  that  was  going  to  be  some  meeting  I 

Pretty  soon  Westy  came  running  back  dowa 
the  hill. 

"Did  you  get  it?"  I  asked  him,  but,  of  course, 
I  knew  he  did.  He  was  so  much  out  of  breath 
that  he  couldn't  answer  and  even  after  he  stopped 
he  had  to  pant  it  out,  kind  of. 

"It  wasn't  there,"  he  said. 

"Wasn't  there?"  I  said;  "you're  crazy.  Sure 
it  was  there.  Where  did  you  look?" 

"I  looked  just  where  you  said,"  Westy  panted, 
"and  all  around  besides.  First,  I  felt  all  around 
with  my  hand  and  I  lifted  the  oar-lock  and  it 
wasn't  underneath  it." 

"Maybe  you  got  the  wrong  oar-lock,"  I  said, 
all  excited;  "there  are  two  of  them." 

"The  other  one  was  hanging  up,"  he  said;  "I 
found  your  flashlight  on  the  duffel-bag  and  poked 


i48  ROY  BLAKELEY 

the  light  all  around  and  I  saw  the  other  oar-lock 
hanging  up.  I  threw  the  light  on  the  ground,  too, 
because  there's  a  pretty  strong  breeze  up  there.'* 

"How  could  the  breeze  blow  it  away  when  it 
was  under  the  oar-lock?"  I  said.  "It  was  a  new 
two  dollar  bill." 

"Well,  it  wasn't  there,  anyway,"  he  said. 

Then  for  a  minute  we  both  stood  there  and 
neither  one  of  us  said  anything.  I  know  what  I 
was  thinking,  but  I  didn't  want  to  say  it.  I  guess 
iWesty  was  thinking  the  same  thing,  too.  We  both 
sat  down  beside  the  road  and  after  a  couple  of 
minutes,  he  said:  "Maybe  a  tramp  took  it,  hey?" 

"Jerry  wouldn't  let  anyone  on  the  grounds,"  I 
said.  Jerry's  our  gardener.  "And  besides  Don 
wouldn't,  either."  He's  our  dog — he's  a  collie. 

"Well,  it  isn't  there,  anyway,"  Westy  said;  "I 
lifted  the  oar-lock  and  felt  underneath  and  I  laid 
it  down  again,  right  where  it  was — on  a  book  or 
something.  When  I  flashed  the  light  it  wasn't 
there.  Come  on,  we'll  be  late.  I'd  let  you  have 
two  bucks  if  I  had  that  much  extra,  but  I've  only 
got  two  myself.  You  can  chip  in  yours  to-mor 
row,  it'll  be  all  right." 

I  got  up  and  I  felt  awful  funny. 


SOMETHING  MISSING  149 

"Anyway,  there's  no  use  being  late,"  he  said; 
because  I  kind  of  just  couldn't  start. 

"It  isn't  that  I'm  thinking  about,"  I  told  him, 
"It's—" 

"I  know,"  he  said,  "I  thought  about  that,  too, 
but  we've  got  to  hustle." 

So  we  started  down  the  hill  and  neither  of  us 
said  anything.  Of  course,  we  were  both  thinking 
about  Skinny,  but  neither  one  of  us  would  say  it. 

"Pee-wee's  to  blame  in  a  way,"  Westy  said, 
after  a  while ;  "it's  the  belt-axe  the  poor  kid  was 
thinking  about." 

"No,  he  isn't  to  blame,  either,"  I  said;  "he 
didn't  mean  anything — he  didn't  mean  for  Skinny 
to  do  anything  like  that." 

"He  should  have  kept  his  mouth  shut,"  Westyj 
said. 

"Anyway,"  I  said,  "I'm  not  going  to  make  that 
speech;  I  just  can't.  I'm  not  going  to  say  any 
thing  to  Skinny  about  it.  Maybe  I'll  tell  Mr. 
Ellsworth  sometime — I  don't  know.  But  any 
way,  I  can't  present  him  to  the  Elks  that  way,  I 
can't.  I  just  can't.  Poor  kid,  I  don't  suppose  he 
ever  saw  as  much  as  two  dollars  before." 

"You  shouldn't  have  left  it  out  like  that," 
IWesty  said. 


ISO  ROY  BLAKELEY 

After  that  I  guess  neither  of  us  said  anything. 
Gee,  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  felt.  I  know  if  a  fel 
low  is  low  down  and  fires  stones  and  calls  names 
and  all  like  that,  even  still  he  can  get  to  be  a  scout. 
But  if  he  steals — jiminy,  I've  got  no  use  for  a  fel 
low  that  steals.  A  plaguy  lot  I  care  about  tw& 
bucks,  but,  oh,  boy,  I  was  looking  forward  to  that 
meeting  and  how  we  were  going  to  have  Skinny 
all  decorated  and  present  him  to  the  Elks.  And 
now  we  couldn't  do  it.  Honest,  I  didn't  even  want 
to  see  him.  I  didn't  feel  sore  at  him,  but  I  didn't 
want  to  see  him.  Because  he'd  spoiled  all  the  fun 
for  me,  that's  all. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

SHOWS  YOU  WHERE  I  DO  THE  TALKING 

WESTY  said  we  shouldn't  say  anything  to  Mr. 
Ellsworth,  but  wait  until  Skinny  had  taken  the 
oath  and  knew  all  the  laws  and  all  about  scout 
ing,  and  then  maybe  say  something  to  him,  how 
we  thought  maybe  he  had  made  a  mistake  some 
time  and  would  like  to  fix  it  right.  Westy  said 
we'd  call  it  just  getting  off  the  trail.  Westy's  a 
mighty  nice  fellow,  you  bet,  and  he's  a  good  scout. 

But  anyway,  it  knocked  all  the  fun  out  of  that 
meeting  for  us,  and  I  don't  know  what  the  other 
fellows  thought. 

Skinny  was  there  in  his  new  suit  and  he  showed 
how  proud  he  was  to  have  it.  He  was  always 
smiling  in  that  bashful  kind  of  a  way,  as  if  he 
was  kind  of  scared  but  happy  at  the  same  time. 
Mr.  Ellsworth  told  him  to  sit  with  us  and  he 
came  over  and  sat  in  an  extra  chair  right  next 
to  me.  1  guess  he  kind  of  liked  to  be  near  me — 
anyway,  it  seemed  like  that.  I  was  nice  to  him 
all  right,  but  I  don't  know,  it  didn't  seem  like  it 


152  ROY.  BLAKELEY 

did  before.  But  no  fellow  could  get  mad  at  him — • 
he  looked  so  poor,  and  his  suit  didn't  fit  him 
yery  good  and  he  looked  all  strange  and  nervous. 

Pretty  soon  I  said  to  him,  kind  of  half  inter« 
csted,  you  know,  I  said,  "That's  where  you're 
going  to  sit,  in  that  vacant  chair  where  the  Elks 
are.  They're  a  good  patrol,  the  Elks,  and  the 
fellow  who  used  to  sit  there  with  them  was  Tom 
Slade.  You  have  to  try  to  be  a  good  scout  just 
like  he  was." 

"I  know  all  the  laws,  every  one,"  he  said  in  a 
whisper. 

"Do  you  know  law  one?"  I  asked  him. 

"Yop,  it's  the  best  of  the  lot,"  he  said;  "it 
teaches  you  about  honor.  Do  you  know  the  two 
things  about  scouts  I  like  best?"  he  asked  me. 

"No,  I  don't,"  I  said. 

"It's  that  first  law  and  the  belt-axe  that  they 
wear." 

"Never  you  mind  about  the  belt-axe,"  I  said. 

"Yes,  but  you  want  me  to  tell  you  honest,  don't 
you?"  he  blurted  out.  And  he  looked  straight  at 
me  and  his  eyes  were  all  kind  of  hollow  and  excited 
like.  Gee,  he  was  a  queer  kid.  "You  can  make 
fun  of  me  all  you  want,"  he  said,  "I  don't  care. 
Will  I  be  a  scout  to-night?" 


WHERE  I  DO  THE  TALKING       153 

"Not  to-night,"  I  told  him,  "we're  going  to  turn 
you  over  to  the  Elks  to-night.  And  then  they'll 
teach  you  things  and  get  you  ready." 

Pretty  soon  it  came  time  to  present  him,  but  I 
didn't  feel  like  making  any  fun  about  it.  Gee,  1 
don't  know  what  my  patrol  thought  about  me. 
But  anyway,  Westy  knew.  So  I  just  said  how  we 
found  Alfred  McCord  and  how  he  wanted  to  be 
a  scout  and  we  thought  it  was  a  good  idea  to  give 
him  to  the  Elk  Patrol,  to  fill  the  place  of  Tom 
Slade.  Cracky,  there  wasn't  any  pep  to  it  at  all. 

Then  afterwards  Mr.  Ellsworth  took  up  the  col 
lection  of  one  dollar  and  seventy  cents  from  each 
fellow,  to  buy  the  eats  and  pay  the  expenses  of  the 
cruise.  I  had  to  say  that  I  wasn't  ready  with  it, 
and  I  guess  he  was  surprised,  because  1  never  miss 
a  chipping  in,  but  anyway,  I  said  I'd  have  it  next 
day.  I  should  worry  about  that. 

On  the  way  out  I  met  Pee-wee  shouting  away 
like  a  machine  gun.  "Come  on  up  the  street  with 
me,"  I  said;  "I  want  to  tell  you  something." 

When  we  were  about  a  block  off  I  said,  "You 
listen  here,  kiddo.  I  don't  want  you  to  be  shout 
ing  about  belt-axes  and  jack-knives  ana  things  like 
that  in  front  of  Skinny  McCord.  I'm  telling  you 
that  and  I  want  you  to  remember  it.  And  I've 


154  ROY  BLAKELEY 

got  good  reasons,  too.  Scouts  aren't  made  out  of 
belt-axes  and  jack-knives  and  badges.  They're 
made  out  of  ideas,  as  you  might  say.  You  just 
remember  what  I  tell  you  and  don't  be  springing 
this  stuff  about  the  emblem  of  the  woods  and  all 
that.  A  belt-axe  costs  two  dollars — haven't  you 
got  sense  enough  to  know  that.  And  do  you  know 
hew  much  it  costs  to  take  the  scout  oath  ?  Not  one 
blooming  cent!" 

Jiminy  crinkums,  he  just  listened  and  didn't  say 
a  single  word.  For  two  blocks  he  didn't  say  a 
word. 

It  was  the  biggest  stunt  he  ever  did. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IN  THE  WOODS 

Now1  I  have  to  go  backward — that's  one  good 
thing  about  this  story,  it  has  a  reverse  gear;  you 
can  go  backward. 

The  first  night  we  had  the  house-boat,  Mr.  Ells 
worth  went  to  see  Mr.  Darren,  who  is  superin 
tendent  of  Northside  Woods  (that's  owned  by  the 
Northside  estate)  and  he  asked  Mr.  Darren  if 
we  could  chop  down  some  saplings  to  use  on  the 
boat.  Because  we  wanted  to  make  some  stanch 
ions  for  the  awning,  and  another  flagpole,  and 
some  bumper  sticks.  He  thought  that  was  a  good 
idea,  because  lumber  costs  so  much.  Connie  said 
the  reason  it  was  high  is  because  they're  building 
tall  houses.  So  Mr.  Darren  marked  some  saplings 
with  chalk  and  said  we  could  take  those. 

The  next  afternoon  after  that  last  meeting,  we 
all  hiked  over  to  Northside  Woods  to  chop  down 
the  saplings.  You  have  to  go  across  the  bridge 
to  get  to  Northside  Woods  and  then  you  go  up 
the  road  toward  Little  Valley. 

155 


156  ROY  BLAKELEY 

Westy  didn't  go  with  the  rest  of  us  because  he 
wanted  to  get  a  book  out  of  the  library,  for  he 
thought  the  library  might  be  closed  when  we  got 
back, 

"Have  a.  heart,"  I  said,  "and  don't  be  late  what 
ever  you  do,  because  there's  been  enough  of  that 
kind  of  thing  in  our  patrol  lately." 

"I'll  be  Johnny-on-the-spot,  don't  you  fear,"  he 
said.  And  I  knew  he  would,  only  he's  one  of  those 
fellows  that's  always  trying  to  do  too  much.  He 
isn't  late  much,  I'll  say  that  for  him,  but  he  always 
comes  running  in  at  the  last  minute. 

"Well,  don't  get  us  in  Dutch,"  I  told  him,  "that's 
all  I  care  about." 

We  had  a  dandy  hike  over  to  the  woods.  My 
patrol  got  there  first  and  pretty  soon  the  Ravens 
came  along  and  Doc  Carson  had  his  First  Aid  kit 
— you'd  think  somebody  was  going  to  fight  a  duel, 
honest.  "Why  don't  you  start  a  base  hospital  and 
be  done  with  it  ?"  I  said. 

Pretty  soon  the  Elks  came  along  and  Skinny 
was  with  them.  As  soon  as  I  looked  at  him  I  felt 
kind  of  bad  like,  for  I  saw  I  was  right  about  the 
two  dollars.  I  knew  I  was  right  all  the  time,  but 
now  I  saw  it,  and  jingoes,  it  spoiled  all  my  fun. 
Because  he  had  a  belt-axe  on  and  I  could  sec  he 


IN  THE  WOODS  157 

was  very  proud  of  it.  He  came  up  to  me  and 
smiled  that  funny  kind  of  a  smile  he  had,  and 
he  said,  "I  got  one;  see,  I  got  one." 

It  was  a  new  one  all  right,  but  not  a  regular 
scout-axe,  and  I  guessed  he  must  have  bought  it  in 
the  hardware  store.  It  was  what  they  call  a  camp 
axe — just  the  same  only  different.  His  belt  was 
loose  anyway,  on  account  of  him  being  so  thin,  but 
the  axe  dragged  it  way  down  and  made  him  look 
awful  funny,  but  he  had  on  the  scout  smile  and 
that's  the  principal  thing. 

"It's  a  good  one,  ain't  it?"  he  asked  me. 

"It's  all  right,"  I  said,  but  I  just  couldn't  tatce 
it  and  look  at  it. 

"It'll  cut,  too,"  he  said;  "and  I'm  going  to  chop 
down  a  lot  of  trees.  And  it's  my  very  own,  isn't 
it?" 

Jiminy,  I  didn't  know  how  to  answer  that,  so 
I  didn't  say  anything,  only  I  told  him  not  to  chop 
down  many  because  he  wasn't  strong  yet.  And  I 
told  him  not  to  chop  any  that  didn't  have  chalk 
marks.  I  told  him  to  ask  Connie  Bennett,  and  to 
stay  near  him,  because  Connie  is  the  Elks'  leader 
ever  since  Tom  Slade  went  away.  "You  do  what 
Connie  tells  you,"  I  said. 

Well,  the  way  that  kid  started  you'd  think  he 


158  ROYi  BLAKELEY 

was  going  to  chop  the  North  Pole  in  half.  "He'd 
be  able  to  chop  through  the  equator  in  a  couple  o£ 
hours  at  that  rate,"  I  told  Connie.  But  anyway, 
he  was  getting  fresh  air  and  a  whole  lot  of  fun. 

Some  of  the  fellows  chopped  and  some  of  them 
cut  off  the  branches  and  tied  the  saplings  together, 
three  or  four  each,  because  we  were  going  to  haul 
them  as  far  as  the  bridge  and  then  float  them 
down  to  the  landing. 

Every  little  while  I  looked  at  Skinny  and  he  was 
chopping  away  at  one  sapling  for  dear  life.  He 
had  it  all  full  of  nicks  and  every  nick  had  a  place 
all  to  itself. 

"That  isn't  chopping,  it's  what  you  call  wood- 
carving,"  Dorry  Benton  said. 

"He's  a  good  butcher,  anyway,"  Artie  said. 

Every  time  Skinny  hit,  he  hit  in  a  different  place 
and  he  would  never  get  the  sapling  down,  I  saw 
that,  but  he  was  having  the  time  of  his  life,  just 
the  same. 

"Some  Daniel  Boone,"  Will  Dawson  said.  But 
I  told  them  not  to  make  fun  of  him. 

All  the  while  I  kept  wondering  if  Skinny  really 
thought  that  axe  was  his  very  own  like  he  said. 
And  it  seemed  sort  of  funny  that  he  could  be  get 
ting  so  much  fun  out  of  it.  Oftentimes  he  would 


"  EVERY  TIME  SKINNY  HIT,  HE  HIT  IN  A  DIFFERENT  PLACE." 
Roy  BUkfley  Page  158 


IN  THE  WOODS  159 

get  tired  and  begin  to  cough  and  Connie  would 
make  him  sit  down  and  rest.  Then  he  would  show 
his  axe  to  the  fellows  and  match  it  to  theirs  and 
say  he  liked  his  best.  I  don't  know,  maybe 
there  was  something  wrong  about  Skinny.  Maybe 
he  was  more  crazy  about  weapons  than  he  was 
about  scouting.  He  didn't  seem  to  think  about 
anything  except  cutting  down  that  sapling,  and  the 
more  of  a  botch  he  made  out  of  it,  the  harder  he 
worked.  I  remembered  something  Mr.  Ellsworth 
said  to  Tom  Slade  about  not  caring  more  for  his 
gun  than  he  did  for  his  country.  But,  gee,  when 
I  thought  about  what  Skinny  said  about  the  two 
things  he  liked  most,  the  axe  and  the  law  about 
honor,  good  night,  I  couldn't  understand  him  at 
all. 

Pretty  soon  I  began  worrying  about  Westy,  be 
cause  something  is  always  delaying  that  fellow, 
and  I  even  hoped  that  he  wouldn't  stumble  over 
any  more  good  turns,  until  this  day's  work  was 
over.  If  Westy  fell  out  of  a  ten-story  building, 
he'd  do  a  good  turn  on  the  way  down — that's  the 
way  he  is. 

Well,  pretty  soon  I  heard  him  coming  through 
the  woods  on  the  dead  run.  We  all  stopped  work 
ing  and  laughed,  because  he  was  coming  along  like 


160  ROY  BLAKELEY 

a  marathon  runner.  All  except  Skinny1 — he  went 
right  on  chopping  away  and  the  sapling  looked  as 
if  a  cow  had  been  chewing  it. 

I  don't  know,  but  something  or  other  made  me 
Feel  kind  of  mad  at  him  all  of  a  sudden,  and  I 
didn't  laugh  at  him. 

Then  he  called  over  to  me  and  he  said,  "Look 
— how  I'm  chopping  it  down  with  my  axe !  See  ?" 

"Who's  axe  ?"  I  said,  because  I  just  couldn't  help 
it. 

"Look I  See?"  he  shouted,  all  excited;  "ain't  I 
a  good  chopper — ain't  I?" 

Maybe  you  won't  understand  how  it  was,  be 
cause,  gee,  I  can't  tell  things  so  you'll  see  them 
just  right.  Anyway,  I'm  not  excusing  myself, 
that's  one  thing.  But  I  just  looked  over  at  Skinny 
and  I  said: 

"I  don't  want  to  look  at  your  axe !  Shut  up  you 
little — "  I  was  going  to  call  him  a  little  thief,  but 
I'm  mighty  glad  I  didn't.  "Can't  you  see  I'm  look 
ing  at  something  else?"  I  said,  kind  of  mad. 
"You'd  be  better  off  if  you  never  thought  about 
the  axe ;  you're  a — " 

Just  then  I  heard  somebody  yell,  "Look  out, 
Westy,  the  boards  are  gone!  You'll  have  to 
climb!" 


IN  THE  WOODS  161 

After  that,  everything  seemed  to  be  all  jumbled 
up.  I  saw  Skinny  standing  near  his  sapling  just 
staring  at  me  and  he  looked  as  if  I  had  just  hit 
him  and  he  didn't  understand  at  all.  He  didn't 
even  notice  all  the  other  fellows  who  were  run 
ning.  Then  I  looked  and  I  didn't  see  Westy,  but 
all  the  fellows  were  heading  for  the  ditch  and  I 
knew  right  away  what  had  happened.  Somebody 
hollered,  "Get  your  kit,  Doc,  and  hurry  up." 
There  was  a  ditch  near  where  the  saplings  grew 
and  usually  there  were  a  couple  of  boards  across 
it.  But  they  weren't  there  when  all  of  us  fellows 
went  across  and  we  had  to  go  down  into  the  ditch 
and  climb  up  the  other  side.  I  guess  the  woods 
men  had  taken  them,  maybe. 

Anyway,  when  Westy  came  along  the  path  he 
was  running  so  hard  he  didn't  notice  in  time  that 
the  boards  weren't  there,  and  he  went  head  over 
heels  into  the  ditch.  I  guess  I  was  the  last  one  to 
get  there,  and  all  the  fellows  were  standing  around 
and  Doc  was  kneeling  over  Westy,  and  feeling  his 
pulse.  WestyTs  face  was  all  white  and  there  was 
blood  coming  down  from  his  eye  and  he  looked 
straight  up  and  didn't  notice  anybody.  All  the 
fellows  were  quiet  and  scared,  kind  of,  and  wait 
ing  for  Doc  to  speak.  But  he  wasn't  excited,  only 


i62  ROY  BLAKELEY 

he  said  we'd  better  get  a  doctor.  "It  isn't  a  frac« 
ture,"  he  said;  "it's  only  a  cut,  but  anyway,  we'd 
better  get  the  doctor." 

Then  I  saw  some  blood  on  the  front  of  Westy'a 
khaki  shirt.  But  Doc  saw  it  first  and  he  said, 
"Open  his  shirt,  maybe  he  has  something  hanging 
from  his  neck  that  cut  him.  Feel  and  see  if  he  has 
a  knife  in  his  breast  pocket.  Open  his  shirt  first. 
Give  me  the  iodine  and  some  bandage,  one  of 
you  fellows." 

I  thought  I  ought  to  be  the  one  to  open  his 
shirt,  because  he  was  in  my  patrol  and  besides  we 
were  special  friends,  as  you  might  say.  So  I  pushed 
through  past  the  others  and  just  as  I  was  kneeling 
down  I  saw  Skinny  standing  up  on  the  edge  of  the 
(ditch  and  his  eyes  looked  big  and  he  was  all  tremb 
ling  and  excited.  There  were  big  red  spots  on  his 
cheeks  and  I  knew  that  was  the  consumption  that 
showed  whenever  he  got  excited.  He  was  all  by 
himself  up  there  and  he  looked  kind  of  wild — I 
can't  exactly  tell  you. 

Then  I  opened  Westy's  shirt  and  I  saw  he  had 
a  ring  with  two  keys  hanging  there  and  they  must 
have  pressed  into  his  chest  and  cut  him.  It  kind  of 
scared  me,  because  there  was  so  much  blood,  but 


IN  THE  WOODS  163 

Doc  said,  "Give  me  the  iodine — that's  nothing." 
And  I  knew  he  knew  what  he  was  talking  about. 

While  he  was  putting  iodine  in  the  cut  I  felt  in 
Westy's  pocket  like  Doc  told  me  to  do,  but  there 
wasn't  any  knife  there.  But  there  was  something 
else  there  and  I  pulled  it  out.  Oh,  gee,  I  hate  to 
tell  you  about  it.  It  was  my  two  dollar  bill.  I 
could  tell  because  it  was  new  and  because  it  had  a 
stain  on  it  in  the  shape  of  a  half  circle. 

I  always  kept  oil  on  those  oar-locks,  so  they 
wouldn't  get  rusty. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

TREASURE  ISLAND 

NOBODY  noticed  me,  I  guess,  and  I  just 
scrambled  up  the  ditch  and  went  away  behind  a 
tree  and  looked  at  the  two  dollar  bill  again.  I 
guess  you  sure  know  the  shape  of  an  oar-lock  all 
right — kind  of  round,  but  open  at  the  top.  And 
that  was  just  the  shape  of  the  stain  on  the  bill.  I 
could  have  laid  one  of  my  oar-locks  right  on  that 
bill  and  covered  up  the  st|in. 

Maybe  you  think  I  was  glad  to  get  the  bill 
back  but  I  wasn't  What  did  I  care  about  that 
bill?  Gee,  a  two  dollar  bill  isn't  anything,  com 
pared  to  a  friend,  it  isn't.  I  could  have  another 
bill  right  away  if  I  wanted  it,  and  anyway,  I'd  be 
sure  to  get  one  on  Monday.  It  was  Westy  I  was 
thinking  about,  because  you  know  how  you  heard 
me  say  we  were  special  friends,  sort  of.  Jiminy 
Christopher!  I  didn't  care  about  anything  now. 
Even  once  when  I  lost  my  bronze  medal  I  didn't 
feel  so  bad.  Then  I  said  I  guessed  Westy  just 
put  it  in  his  pocket  to  fool  me  and  that  he  was 

T64 


TREASURE  ISLAND  16$ 

going  to  give  it  to  me.  But  cracky,  there's  no  use 
trying  to  kid  yourself.  Then,  all  of  a  sudden  I 
thought  how  he  wanted  me  to  hurry  and  run  and 
how  he  didn't  want  to  stop  and  talk  much  about  it. 

Jiminy,  I  didn't  know  what  to  do  and  I  just 
felt  like  going  home  and  going  up  to  my  room  and 
locking  the  door.  I  knew  if  I  ever  told  anybody 
it  would  be  either  Ruth  or  Marjorie.  It's  funny 
how  when  a  fellow  really  has  a  lot  of  trouble  he'd 
rather  tell  a  girl  than  anybody  else.  You  can 
laugh  at  girls,  but  that's  true.  Maybe  they  can't 
run  and  all  that,  but  they  kind  of  know  all  about 
it  when  you  have  a  lot  of  trouble.  Maybe  I'd 
tell  them,  too,  because  they'd  wonder  if  Westy 
didn't  come  to  the  house  any  more. 

Anyway,  I  was  glad  it  was  me  to  find  the  two 
dollars  and  none  of  the  other  fellows.  I  decided 
that  as  long  as  it  wasn't  any  good  to  me  I'd  put 
it  back  in  his  pocket  if  I  could  get  a  chance.  Then 
maybe  it  would  be  kind  of  like  a  memorandum  to 
him  and  he'd  come  and  give  it  back  when  he  had 
plenty  of  money  sometime,  maybe. 

But  when  I  went  back  there  wasn't  any  chance 
to  do  that,  because  all  the  fellows  were  still  crowd 
ing  around.  I  stood  up  on  the  edge  of  the  ditch 
and  I  heard  somebody  say  that  El  Sawyer  had 


i66  ROY  BLAKELEY 

gone  to  Bridgeboro.  Doc  looked  up  at  me  and 
he  said,  "It  isn't  bad,  kiddo,  don't  worry."  And 
I  knew  he  was  right  and  it  made  me  feel  good. 

Anyway,  I  don't  know  why  he  called  me  Kiddo 
sometimes.  Because  I'm  leader  of  the  Silver  Fox 
patrol,  why  should  he  call  me  kiddo.  But  I  guess 
he  felt  sorry  for  me,  as  you  might  say. 

It  was  funny,  but  as  soon  as  I  knew  Westy  was 
going  to  get  better,  I  didn't  want  to  stay  there.  I 
was  afraid  he  might  look  at  me  and  see  that  every 
thing  wasn't  all  right.  I  was  afraid  he  might  see 
something  in  my  eyes — you  know.  So  I  walked 
away,  and  besides,  anyway,  I  wanted  to  think  and 
I  just  felt  I  wanted  to  be  alone  by  myself. 

Just  as  I  was  going  away  one  of  the  fellows 
said,  "Here  you  go,  kiddo,"  and  chucked  a  book 
up  at  me.  "You  take  care  of  it;  it  was  in  his 
pocket,"  he  said.  I  guessed  it  was  the  book  Westy 
had  got  out  of  the  library  and  I  was  pretty  glad 
because  when  you're  all  alone  and  haven't  got  any 
friends  and  everybody  goes  back  on  you,  kind  of, 
it's  dandy  to  read  a  book.  Because,  anyway, 
books  never  go  back  on  you,  that's  one  sure  thing. 
And  they  don't  take — anyway  they're  good 
friends.  When  I  looked  at  this  one,  I  saw  it  was 


TREASURE  ISLAND  167 

"Treasure  Island"  and  I  was  glad  'cause  I  always 
liked  that  one. 

That  fellow,  Jim  Hawkins,  he  was  a  fine  fellow, 
anyway.  Gee,  I  said  to  myself,  I'd  like  to  have 
him  for  a  friend,  that's  sure.  Because  a  fellow 
in  a  book  can  be  a  friend  to  you  just  like  a  real 
one.  Even  better,  sometimei. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  SHORT  CUT 

ONE  thing,  I  hoped  they'd  all  go  home  soon  s* 
I  could  sit  down  on  a  log  and  read  some  more  in 
that  book.  Only  lately  I  read  it,  but  cracky,  that 
doesn't  make  any  difference  when  it's  a  good  book, 
I  thought  I'd  go  back  to  the  ditch  pretty  soon — as 
soon  as  El  Sawyer  came  with  the  doctor.  But, 
anyway,  I  wanted  to  be  alone  now. 

So  I  stuffed  the  book  in  my  pocket  and  strolled 
over  to  where  we  had  been  cutting  the  saplings. 
Then  I  went  over  close  and  looked  at  the  one 
Skinny  had  been  chopping.  I  guess  I  didn't  know 
what  I  was  doing  and  thinking  about.  Anyway, 
now  that  I  looked  at  it,  I  was  sorry  I  made  fun  of 
him  and  got  mad  at  him.  It  wasn't  only  because 
I  knew  he  didn't  take  the  two  dollars,  but  anyway, 
I  felt  sorry  for  him. 

I  couldn't  see  him  anywhere  around  and  he 
wasn't  in  the  ditch,  I  knew  that  If  he  had  been 
there  then,  you  bet  I'd  have  been  all  right  with 
him.  It  made  me  feel  bad  when  I  looked  at  that 

168 


THE  SHORT  CUT  169 

sapling  all  hacked  and  standing  up  just  as  strong 
as  ever.  He  must  have  chopped  away  on  it  for 
half  an  hour  and  about  all  the  poor  little  kid  did 
was  to  get  the  bark  off.  Right  close  by,  I  saw 
his  belt  axe  lying  just  where  he  left  it.  It  had 
Skinny  marked  on  it,  and  I  guess  he  did  it  him 
self.  It  made  me  feel  kind  of  sorry  for  him  th?.: 
he  called  himself  Skinny.  It  was  his  axe,  anyway. 
And  I  felt  like  kicking  myself.  And  I  saw  how 
he  had  been  trying  to  be  a  scout  just  like  the  other 
fellows,  poor  little  kid.  It  wasn't  any  of  my 
business  where  he  got  the  money.  It  was  his, 
anyway. 

Then  I  began  kicking  the  chips  around  with  my 
foot  and  saying,  "Poor  kid."  And  I  said  I  guessed 
he'd  die  before  he  could  ever  chop  down  a  tree. 
Because,  now  since  I  had  seen  those  red  spots  on 
his  cheeks  I  knew  how  bad  he  was.  I  knew  he 
didn't  have  any  strength  at  all,  and  all  the  time 
something  he  had  said  kept  running  in  my  mind. 
"/  like  the  one  about  honor."  "Poor  little  Skinny," 
I  said.  I  was  feeling  bad,  anyway. 

All  of  a  sudden  I  heard  a  sound  and  saw  three 
or  four  fellows  scrambling  up  out  of  the  ditch. 
So  I  went  over  there  and  just  as  I  got  there,  I  saw 
something  that  I'll  never  forget,  you  can  bet. 


170  ROX  BLAKELEY 

First  I  thought  it  was  a  ghost,  and  all  the  fel 
lows  were  flabbergasted.  It  was  Skinny  stand 
ing  right  near  and  clutching  hold  of  a  tree,  and  he 
was  all  trembling  and  I  thought  he  was  going  to 
fall  down.  Honest,  I  never  saw  anything  like 
the  way  he  looked.  His  hair  was  all  flying  loose 
..nd  it  made  him  look  wild,  because  it  wasn't  cut. 
And  his  eyes  were  all  like  as  if  they  were  on  fire. 

"I  got  him,"  he  said,  "I  got  him — he's  coming* 
He's  getting— out  of— out  of  his  automobile.  I 
got  him  because  I'm — I'm  a  swamp-rat!"  Thafs 
just  the  way  he  said  it,  and  he  hung  onto  the  tree 
and  his  fingers  were  all  thin  like  an  old  man's  and 
the  spots  were  in  his  cheeks.  "He's  coming !"  he 
panted  out. 

Just  then  I  could  see  Doctor  Winters  coming 
through  the  trees  with  a  little  black  bag.  He  must 
have  left  his  machine  out  on  the  road  about  a  hun 
dred  yards  away.  And  I  guess  Skinny  must  have 
jumped  out  and  run  in  ahead  to  show  him  the  way 
And  he  just  kept  saying,  "I  got  him,  I  got  him: 
Because  I'm  a  swamp-rat — everybody  says  so — 
and  I  know  the  short  cut — now  can  I  have  a  badge 
— maybe — sometime  ?  Maybe  am  I  a  scout  now  ?" 

I  just  looked  at  him  and  it  gave  me  the  creeps. 
Because  I  knew  what  he  had  done.  And  I  re- 


THE  SHORT  CUT  171 

tnembered  now  how  people  called  him  a  dirty 
swamp-rat.  Many  a  time  I'd  heard  them  call  him 
that.  Just  a  dirty  little  swamp-rat.  And  now, 
he  was  sort  of  proud  of  it. 

First,  I  couldn't  move  and  I  just  couldn't  speak. 
Then  I  went  up  to  him  and  I  said — I  didn't  care 
for  the  doctor  or  anybody — I  said,  "Skinny,  there's 
one  fellow  here  who  knows  what  the  marshes  are 
and  that's  me.  Because  I  came  near  getting  swal 
lowed  up  by  them." 

"It's — it's — short — cut,"  he  just  panted  out. 

"All  I  want  to  tell  you  is,"  I  said,  "there's  not 
another  scout  in  the  whole  troop  could  do  it — do 
you  hear  I  You're  not  a  swamp-rat,  you're  a 
swamp-jcow//'  I  said. 

Then  I  was  going  to  say  more,  only  Skinny 
seemed  as  if  he  was  going  to  fall  and  the  doctor 
kind  of  seemed  to  want  me  to  move  away.  Any 
way,  I  went  over  and  got  Skinny's  belt-axe  to  carry 
it  home  for  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IN  MY  OWN  CAMP 

As  soon  as  the  fellows  knew  for  sure  that  there 
was  nothing  much  the  matter  with  Westy,  they 
scrambled  out  of  the  ditch  and  all  stood  around 
Skinny,  praising  him  up  and  he  was  so  excited 
that  he  didn't  talk  straight,  but  sort  of  yelled  at 
them.  The  only  ones  with  Westy  were  the  real 
doctor  and  Doc  Carson,  and  Doc  was  helping  him 
fix  the  bandages  better. 

When  I  saw  them  down  there  it  made  me  feel 
as  if  I'd  like  to  go  down  and  say  something  to 
Westy.  His  face  was  all  white  and  the  bandage 
on  his  head  made  him  look — oh,  I  don't  know — 
sort  of  as  if  he  might  die.  And  then  I'd  be  sorry 
I  hadn't  said  something  to  him.  Because  I  had 
known  Westy  an  awful  long  time. 

So  I  went  down  and  pretty  soon  the  doctor  went 
up  to  seq  Skinny  and  Doc  Carson  went  too.  So 
I  was  alone  with  him  down  there,  but  his  eyes  were 
shut  on  account  of  his  being  weak  from  losing  sc 
much  blood,  and  he  didn't  notice  me. 

172 


IN  MY  OWN  CAMP  173 

Anyway,  I  slipped  that  two  dollars  into  his 
shirt  pocket  because  I  didn't  want  it  anyway,  and 
I  thought  maybe  it  would  be  a  memorandum  to 
him,  like  I  said.  Besides  I  didn't  have  a  right 
to  keep  money  I  got  out  of  another  fellow's  pocket 

I  said,  "It's  me,  Westy ;  the  reason  I  didn't  come 
around  was  because  all  the  other  fellows  were 
here.  But  now  you're  alone  I  want  to  tell  you 
that  I'm  glad  you're  not  hurt  bad." 

He  just  looked  at  me  and  he  said,  "I  went — I 
did  it." 

First  I  didn't  know  what  to  say,  and  then  I 
said,  "Never  you  mind,  I  guess  you  were  kind  of 
crazy.  We  all  get  crazy  sometimes.  I  was  crazy 
when  I  thought  Tom  Slade  was  lying  once.  Never 
you  mind." 

"I  guess  I  was  crazy,"  he  just  said,  and  then  he 
shut  his  eyes  and  I  didn't  bother  him  any  more — 
only  just  sat  there.  I  don't  know  what  made  him 
tell  me,  but  anyway,  I  was  glad. 

Pretty  soon  I  helped  him  to  Dr.  Winters'  auto 
mobile  because  he  limped  pretty  bad.  Skinny 
went  in  the  automobile,  too,  and  Doc  Carson,  but 
they  didn't  ask  me.  All  the  fellows  went  along 
the  road,  too,  because  nobody  felt  like  hauling  the 
saplings  that  day,  and  /  didn't,  that's  sure.  I  said 


I74  ROY  BLAKELEY 

I  was  going  back  to  get  Skinny's  axe,  and  I  was 
glad  when  I  was  all  alone  in  the  woods.  That's 
the  best  place  to  be  if  you've  got  any  troubles  and 
you  want  to  think. 

And  I  kind  of  didn't  want  to  think  about  Westy, 
so  I  thought  about  Skinny  just  to  keep  everything 
else  out  of  my  head.  Because  I  knew  it  wouldn't 
ever  be  just  the  same  again  with  Westy  and  I 
didn't  want  to  think  about  it.  In  the  troop  it 
would  be  all  right,  and  maybe  in  the  patrol  too, 
but  it  wouldn't  ever  be  just  the  same  again  with 
iWesty  and  me. 

I  was  glad  that  I'd  be  interested  in  Skinny  and 
now  I  could  see  he  was  different  from  all  of  us — 
kind  of  wonderful — I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you* 
His  eyes  were  so  big,  and  wild,  and  starey.  And 
he  said  things  in  such  a  funny  way  and  he  got  so 
excited.  Up  at  Temple  Camp,  afterwards,  Mr. 
Ellsworth  told  Jeb  Rushmore  that  Skinny  was  in 
spired,  but  I  don't  know  just  what  he  meant.  All 
I  knew  is  we  were  even  scared  of  him  sometimes, 
He  never  called  any  of  us  by  our  names — that  was 
funny. 

Pretty  soon  I  went  home.  It  was  all  dark  in 
the  woods  and  dandy  for  thinking,  and  I  was  glad 
I  had  one  friend,  anyway,  and  that  was  Jim  Haw- 


IN  MY  OWN  CAMP  175] 

kins  in  the  book.  I  guessed  maybe  that  was  the 
reason  that  Westy  got  the  book,  because  only 
lately  I  had  read  it,  and  I  had  told  him  so  much 
about  it.  All  the  way  home  I  kept  thinking  about 
Westy  and  I  wished  I  had  never  found  that  out. 

Mostly  at  night  I  sit  on  the  porch  with  my 
mother  and  father,  but  that  night  I  went  to  my  tent 
and  lit  the  lantern  and  sat  there.  I  like  a  lantern 
because  it  reminds  you  of  camping.  Nix  on  electric 
lights  up  at  Temple  Camp,  that's  what  Jeb  Rusk- 
more  says.  Gee,  he  has  no  use  for  electric  lights 
— electric  lights  and  umbrellas.  But,  anyway,  I've 
got  a  wire  from  our  garage  to  Camp  Solitaire 
'(that's  my  tent)  and  a  bulb  for  when  I  want  to 
read.  Jerry  says  I  ought  to  pay  for  tapping  the 
garage  current.  I  should  worry. 

I  sat  down  and  began  reading  Treasure  Island 
all  over  again.  I  skipped  a  lot  because  I  had  only 
just  lately  read  it,  and  pretty  soon  I  was  reading 
about  in  the  middle  of  it,  where  they  start  off  in 
the  ship.  That's  the  part  I  like  best.  All  of 
a  sudden  I  couldn't  see  the  reading  very  good  and 
I  noticed  there  was  a  stain  on  the  page. 

Here's  where  I  wish  that  I  knew  all  about  writ 
ing  books  like  a  regular  grown  up  author,  because 
I  have  to  explain  something  to  you  and,  cracky,  I 


176  ROY,  BLAKELEY. 

wi&h  you  could  see  that  book,  because  then  it  would 
be  easier.  First,  I  didn't  think  anything  about  it 
at  all,  only  I  noticed  that  the  stain  was  on  the  left 
hand  page.  Then,  all  of  a  sudden  I  noticed  some 
thing  about  that  stain  that  got  me  all  excited. 

It  was  in  the  shape  of  a  ring,  kind  of. 

Right  away  I  knew  what  it  meant.  I  picked  up 
one  of  my  oar-locks  and  laid  it  on  the  stain  and  it 
just  covered  it.  So  I  saw  I  had  damaged  the  book 
when  I  had  it  before.  That's  one  thing  you're  not 
supposed  to  do— damage  books  out  of  the  library. 
If  you  keep  a  book  till  its  overdue,  that  isn't  so 
bad,  because  then  you  just  pay  a  fine.  Connie  says 
that's  being  a  good  bookkeeper. 

But  to  damage  a  book — g-o-o-d  night  1 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


I  WAS  just  thinking  how  funny  it  was  that  Westy 
got  this  very  same  book  that  I  had,  but  maybe  it 
wasn't  so  funny,  because  that  was  what  put  it  into 
his  head  to  get  it — seeing  it  in  my  tent.  Anyway,  I 
was  glad  it  came  back  to  me,  because  now  I  saw 
what  I  had  done  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I'd 
buy  a  new  book  for  the  library. 

Then  I  was  thinking  how  I'd  have  to  tell  Westy 
about  it,  and,  oh,  I  don't  know,  I  just  didn't  know 
how  to  go  and  speak  to  him.  I  wasn't  mad  at  him, 
but  anyway,  I  felt  as  if  I  didn't  want  to  see  him — 
yet.  Anyway,  I  didn't  have  any  money  yet  and 
books  like  that  cost  a  lot. 

All  of  a  sudden  I  heard  Don  start  barking  and 
then  he  stopped.  So  I  knew  somebody  was  coming 
that  he  knew.  Then  I  heard  somebody  say, 
"You're  always  suspicious,  ain't  you,"  and  oh,  I 
felt  awful  funny,  because  I  knew  it  was  Westy.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  might  be  saying  that  to  me,  but 
I  knew  he  was  saying  it  to  Don — just  kind  p$ 

177 


(178  "  ROY  BLAKELEY 

jollying  him.  Maybe  you  think  you  can't  jolly  a 
dog  but  you  can.  You  can  Don,  anyway. 

I  didn't  know  what  I  would  say  to  him,  because 
I  thought  probably  he'd  come  to  give  me  my  two 
dollars  and  say  he  was  sorry  and  must  have  been 
crazy  or  in  a  hurry.  Jiminy,  any  excuse  would  be 
good  enough  for  me,  as  long  as  he  told  me  straight 
out  about  it,  like  he  did  in  the  ditch.  And  maybe 
things  would  get  to  be  all  right  after  a  while.  But 
I  couldn't  understand  how  he  could  come  up  the 
lawn  whistling  and  jollying  Don  and  feeling  so 
good.  I  don't  mean  because  he  was  hurt,  be 
cause  I  knew  that  wasn't  so  bad,  but  I  didn't  see 
how  he  could  be  feeling  so  happy. 

Pretty  soon  he  came  in  and  Don  was  jumping 
up  all  around  him  and  wagging  his  tail. 

"I'm  glad  you're  well  enough  to  come  out,"  I 
said. 

"You  should  worry  about  me,"  he  said;  "I  just 
have  to  limp  a  little,  that's  all.  I'm  a  swell  looking 
Silver  Fox,  hey?"  And  then  he  gave  me  a  push 
and  rumpled  my  hair  all  up  and  said,  "You  won't 
be  ashamed  of  me  on  account  of  my  honorable 
wounds,  will  you?  I  was  a  punk  scout  to  go  and 
do  that." 


THE  GENTLE  BREEZE  179 

Gee,  I  didn't  know  what  to  think,  because  it 
wasn't  anything  to  be  laughing  at,  that's  sure. 

"Do  what?"  I  said. 

"Run  right  into  that  ditch." 

"Is  that  what  you  meant  you  did — when  you 
told  me?"  I  said,  kind  of  disappointed. 

"Sure  it  is,"  he  said,  "I'm  a  swell  scout,  hey? 
Going  headlong  into  a  ditch  1" 

I  just  listened  to  him  and  I  felt  pretty  bad,  be 
cause  now  I  saw  that  was  what  he  meant. 

Then  he  gave  me  another  shove  and  he  said  all 
happy  like,  "But  I'm  the  champion  boy  sleuth  all 
right.  Look  at  this — here's  your  two  bucks  and 
Skinny  never  took  it  at  all." 

"I— I  know  he  didn't,"  I  said. 

"How  did  you  know,"  he  shot  right  at  me. 

"Because,"  I  started  to  say  and  then  he  rumpled 
my  hair  up  some  more  and  began  talking  and 
never  gave  me  a  chance. 

"Because  it  was  right  in  that  copy  of  Treasure 
Island  that's  laying  there,"  he  shouted,  "and  I'm 
one  big  gump,  that's  what  /  am  I  I  got  that  copy 
of  Treasure  Island  out  of  the  library  this  morn 
ing,  because  you  were  telling  me  about  it,  and 
right  there  in  the  middle  of  it  was  your  plaguy  old 
two  buckarinos  I" 


i8o  ROY  BLAKELEY 

Just  for  a  minute  I  looked  at  him  and  I  knew 
it  was  just  like  he  said,  because  he  was  laughing 
•—he  was  so  blamed  happy  about  it. 

Oh,  boy,  didn't  I  feel  good  I 

"How  in  the  dickens  did  it  get  there  ?"  he  said, 

"That's  one  puzzle,"  I  answered  him. 

"Anyway*  you've  got  your  two  bucks  back." 

"A  lot  I  care  about  that,"  I  said;  "jiminy,  IVe 
got  something  better  than  two  dollars,  and  that's 
friends,  you  can  bet." 

Then  I  showed  him  the  stain  on  the  page  of  the 
book  and  we  both  sat  there  gaping  at  it  and  thinkr 
ing. 

"I'm  hanged  if  I  know,"  Westy  said;  "it  would 
take  Tom  Slade  to  dope  that  out." 

"Maybe  Skinny  was  looking  at  the  book  and 
shut  it  with  the  two  dollar  bill  inside,"  I  said. 

"How  about  the  stain?"  Westy  asked  me. 

"Jingoes,  it's  a  puzzle,"  I  said. 

All  of  a  sudden  he  laid  the  book  down  open  and 
laid  the  bill  on  it  and  then  he  laid  the  oar-lock  on 
the  bill.  Then  he  just  sat  there  like  as  if  he  was 
studying.  Pretty  soon  he  said,  "We  have  to  get 
a  new  copy  for  the  library,  anyway.  Do  you  mind 
if  I  make  another  stain  on  this  one?  I've  got  a 
sort  of  an  idea.'' 


THE  GENTLE  BREEZE  181 

"Go  ahead,"  I  said. 

So  now  I'll  tell  you  just  what  he  did  and  you'll 
see  how  it  solved  the  puzzle.  And,  believe  me, 
you'll  have  to  admit  that  Westy's  a  pretty  smart 
fellow.  If  you  have  an  old  book  you  don't  care, 
anything  about,  you  can  even  try  it  and  you  don't 
even  need  an  oar-lock.  Westy  turned  to  a  new 
place  in  the  book  and  then  he  laid  the  bill  down  on 
the  right  hand  page.  Then  he  laid  the  oar-lock  on 
the  bill.  "That's  just  exactly  what  you  did  when 
you  laid  the  bill  down  in  such  a  hurry  that  night 
you  were  fixing  Skinny  up.  You  laid  it  on  the  open 
book  just  like  that — see?" 

"Maybe  I  did."  I  said,  "but  what's  the  big  idea, 
kind  sir?" 

"Well,  then,"  he  said,  "I  came  up  here  to  get 
your  two  bucks  for  you,  didn't  I?  And  you  re 
member  I  told  you  there  was  a  breeze  blowing? 
Now  what  did  I  do — in  the  dark?" 

"Search  me,"  I  said. 

"Why,  you  big  galook,  I  felt  around  in  the  dark 
and  lifted  the  oar-lock  off  the  bill  and  then  felt 
there  for  it,  but  the  breeze  was  too  quick  for  me. 
It  blew  the  page  over  and  I  slapped  my  hand  down 
on — what?" 

"Another  page,"  I  said;  "good  night!" 


1 82  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"Good-bye  two  dollar  bill,"  he  said,  "it  was 
between  those  two  other  pages.  That's  why  there 
was  a  stain  on  the  right  page  in  the  book.  There 
was  a  stain  on  the  bill  made  by  the  oar-lock  and 
when  the  page  and  the  bill  blew  over,  the  fresh  oil 
on  the  bill  kind  of  stamped  itself  on  the  left  hand 
page.  You  didn't  damage  the  book.  You  only 
damaged  the  bill.  It  was  the  breeze  that  damaged 
the  book — see?" 

"Believe  me !     I'll  be  responsible,"  I  told  him. 

"That  breeze  was  a  thief,"  he  said. 

"It'll  come  to  grief  some  day,"  I  told  him. 

Then  we  both  began  to  laugh. 

"And  it's  lucky  I  got  that  book  out  of  the  li» 
brary,"  he  said.  "There  was  your  two  bucks 
tucked  away  all  nice  and  neat  between  the  pages. 
It  was  just  where  Jim  Hawkins  was  starting  away 
on  the  ship." 

"Narrow  escape,"  I  said,  "hey?  If  you  hadn't 
taken  the  book  out  just  when  you  did,  good  night, 
the  ship  might  have  started  and  good-bye  to  my 
two  dollars." 

"You  crazy  Indian,"  he  said. 

"And  all  the  time  I  was  saying  Jim  Hawkins 
was  honest  and  a  good  friend  and  all  that,  and 
all  the  time  he  had  my  two  bucks." 


THE  GENTLE  BREEZE  183 

"Believe  me  I  wouldn't  trust  that  fellow  with  a 
postage  stamp,"  Westy  said. 

Laugh !  Oh,  boy,  I  thought  I'd  die  laughing— 
and  Westy,  too. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

JOLLYING  PEE-WEE 

THAT'S  the  reason  I'll  never  trust  a  gentle 
breeze.  In  books  you  find  all  kinds  of  nice  things 
about  gentle  breezes,  but  look  out  for  them,  that's 
what  I  say.  Whenever  I  leave  my  bathing  suit 
on  the  grass  to  dry,  I  lay  a  good  big  rock  on  it, 
you  can  bet.  I'd  trust  Skinny  with  a  hundred  dol 
lars,  I  would,  and  Westy  too,  but  gentle  breezes 
— Nix.  They're  so  plaguy  sly  and  sneaky  like. 

Westy  and  I  went  and  bought  a  dandy  copy  of 
{Treasure  Island  for  the  library.  It  cost  us  a 
quarter  more  than  my  two  dollars,  but  we  should 
worry. 

Now  I  have  to  tell  you  one  other  thing  that 
happened  before  we  got  started  on  our  cruise,  es 
pecially  because  it  has  a  lot  to  do  with  our  cruise. 

The  next  morning  we  all  went  back  to  Northside 
Woods  to  tie  up  the  saplings  and  drag  them  over 
to  the  river.  Then  we  were  going  to  use  a  row* 
boat  and  tow  them  down  and  maybe  float  some  of 
them  down.  I  told  you  about  our  old  launch,  but 

184 


"  WE  TOWED  THE  SAPLINGS  AND  STARTED  DOWN  STREAM." 
Roy  Blaktley  PaSe  185 


JOLLYING  FEE-WEE  185 

it's  too  shallow  to  use  a  launch  up  as  far  as  North- 
side  Woods. 

All  the  fellows  were  there  except  Skinny,  be 
cause  the  doctor  made  him  stay  home  on  account 
of  being  all  played  out.  I  bet  that  doctor  had  some 
scrap  with  him.  One  thing  sure,  Westy  and  I 
stuck  together.  By  noontime  we  had  all  the  stuff 
hauled  over  to  the  river  and  some  odds  and  ends 
of  kindling  wood  besides,  to  take  in  the  house-boat 

We  filled  the  rowboat  with  the  small  stuff  and 
towed  the  saplings  and  started  downstream  that 
way.  The  tide  was  running  up  and  it  was  almost 
full  and  we  had  some  job  bucking  it.  Some  of  the 
fellows  wanted  to  wait  till  it  turned  and  come  down 
with  it.  But  I  said  that  would  be  an  hour  maybe 
and  that  if  the  tide  didn't  want  to  turn  and  go  with 
us,  we  should  worry. 

Now  that  there  wasn't  anything  left  to  do,  but 
tow  the  stuff  down,  all  the  fellows  except  Westy 
and  I  and  Pee-wee  started  to  hike  it  home.  We 
said  we'd  take  him  with  us  in  the  boat  so  that  he 
could  bail,  because  that  boat  is  built  like  a  sieve. 

"If  it  keeps  on  leaking  like  that,"  I  said,  "there 
won't  be  any  water  left  in  the  river — it'll  all  be  in 
the  boat." 

"It's  pretty  hard  bucking  the  tide,"  Westy  said. 


i86  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"And  we're  going  up  hill  besides,  too,"  I  told 
him;  "remember  that." 

Well,  you  should  have  seen  Pee-wee.  "What 
are  you  talking  about — up  hill!"  he  shouted. 

"When  we  begin  going  down  hill,"  I  said,  all 
the  while  winking  at  Westy,  "she'll  go  easier, 
thank  goodness." 

"We'll  have  to  put  on  the  brakes,"  Westy  said. 

"Do  you  know  why  they  talk  about  lowing  lum 
ber?"  I  asked  Pee-wee;  "because  it's  measured  by, 
the  foot." 

"You're  crazy!"  he  shouted. 

"Just  the  same  as  when  they  use  it  for  back 
fences,  it's  measured  by  the  yard,"  Westy  said,  all 
sober  like. 

"Sure — back — yard,"  I  said. 

"You  think  you  can  jolly  me,  don't  you?"  Pee- 
wee  shouted. 

"You  just  keep  on  bailing,"  I  said,  "and  don't 
stop.  When  the  tide  begins  turning  you  won't  have 
to  bail  so  fast." 

Jiminy,  Pee-wee  didn't  know  what  to  think — 
whether  I  was  kidding  him  or  not.  "Why  won't 
I  ?"  he  wanted  to  know. 

"Because  it  will  be  going  the  other  way,"  I  said, 
"sec?  It'll  be  flowing  away  from  the  boat." 


JOLLYING  PEE-WEE  187 

Oh,  boy !  Pee-wee  just  emptied  the  bailing  can 
(down  my  neck. 

And  that's  the  way  it  was  all  the  way  down. 
Cracky,  but  we  had  Pee-wee  so  crazy  that  he'd 
bail  up  a  can  of  water  out  of  one  end  of  the  boat 
and  empty  it  in  the  other  end. 

"What's  the  difference  whether  it's  inside  or 
outside?"  Westy  said,  "as  long  as  it's  there.  I  bet 
there's  a  lot  of  canned  salmon  in  this  river." 

"Canned  what?    Pee-wee  shouted. 

"Keep  on  bailing,"  I  said;  "canned  salmon  is 
what  he  said,  but  I  think  there  are  more  pickled 
herrings.  There's  lots  of  pickled  herrings  in  the 
Hudson,  I  know  that." 

"You  mean  smoked  herring,"  Westy  said,  alJ 
the  while  rowing  and  looking  around  very  sober 
like  at  me. 

Oh,  boy,  didn't  Pee-wee  open  his  eyes  and  stare ! 
He  didn't  know  whether  to  take  it  for  a  joke  or  not 
— we  were  so  serious. 

"I  suppose  it's  on  account  of  the  smoke  from 
the  big  Hudson  River  boats,"  I  said,  "just  the 
same  as  Oyster  Bay." 

"What  about  Oyster  Bay?"  Pee-wee  shouted. 

"When  the  water  gets  all  stewed  up  in  rough 
weather,  they  get  stewed  oysters." 


1 88  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"Not  always,"  Westy  said. 

"No,  but  most  of  the  time,"  I  said. 

"Oh,  sure,"  Westy  said,  "but  I've  seen  lots  of 
red  lobsters  that  didn't  come  from  Red  Bank — " 

"It's  boiling  makes  them  red;  you  big  galook!" 
Pee-wee  yelled. 

"Oh,  sure,"  I  said,  not  paying  any  attention  to 
him,  but  all  the  while  rowing  hard  and  looking 
around  very  sober  like  at  Westy,  "because  I  know 
there  are  lots  of  bluefish  caught  near  Greenland 
and  you'd  think  by  rights  they  ought  to  be  green." 

"Sure,"  Westy  said,  "just  the  same  as  the  fish 
caught  in  American  River  out  west,  are  red,  white 
and  blue." 

"And  stars,"  I  said. 

"Sure  the  river's  full  of  starfish  and  striped 
mackerel — stars  and  stripes.  That's  why  you 
have  to  stand  up  in  the  boat  if  you're  rowing  on 
that  river." 

"Oh,  sure,"  Westy  said,  "that's  why  so  many 
boats  get  upset." 

Good  night!  you  should  have  seen  Pee-wee. 

"Keep  on  bailing,  kiddo,"  I  said,  "keep  plenty 
of  water  in  the  river." 

"Maybe  it  would  be  better  to  let  a  little  more 
come  into  the  boat,"  Westy  said,  "so  as  to  lowei 


JOLLYING  PEE-WEE  189 

the  water  in  the  river,  so  we  can  get  under  the 
bridge." 

"The  both  of  you  make  me  tired!"  Pee-wee 
yelled;  "do  you  think  I  believe  all  that  stuff?" 

Good  night,  some  circus !  It's  always  that  way 
when  Westy  and  I  get  out  with  Pee-wee. 

Pretty  soon  we  heard  a  loud  whistling  and  we 
wondered  what  it  was,  because  it  didn't  sound 
like  a  train  and  it  sure  wasn't  on  a  motor-boat. 

Then  Westy  began  asking  what  we  were  going 
to  do  about  power  after  we  got  our  stanchions 
and  bumper-sticks  and  all  that  fixed.  I  said  we'd 
have  to  get  Jake  Holden  to  tow  us  down  around 
into  the  Hudson  and  then  get  somebody  to  tow  us 
up.  Westy  said  Mr.  Ellsworth  thought  it  would 
be  cheaper  to  take  our  little  three  horse  power 
engine  out  of  our  launch  and  install  it  in  the  house 
boat. 

I  said,  "That  would  be  all  right,  only  it  would 
kick  us  along  so  slow  that  we'd  spend  all  our  va 
cation  on  the  trip  and  wouldn't  have  any  time  at 
camp."  Cracky,  I  didn't  want  to  start  back  as  soon 
as  we  got  there. 

"Well,  then,  there's  only  one  thing  to  do," 
Westy  said,  "and  that's  for  us  to  get  towed  and 
that  costs  a  lot  of  money." 


190  ROY  BLAKELEY 

All  the  while  the  whistling  kept  up  and  it  was 
awful  loud  and  shrill,  sort  of,  as  if  it  was  mad — 
you  know  how  I  mean. 

"I  know  what  it  is,"  I  said;  "it's  somebody 
waiting  for  the  bridge  to  be  opened." 

"Good  night,  they  stand  a  tall  chance,"  Westy 
said. 

"It's  a  tug,  that's  what  it  is,"  Pee-wee  said;  "I 
can  see  the  smoke.  It's  going  up  in  a  big  column." 

"It's  more  than  a  column,  its  a  whole  volume," 
Westy  said,  looking  around.  "There  must  be 
books  on  that  boat;  the  smoke  is  coming  cut  in. 
volumes." 

All  the  while  we  were  getting  nearer  to  the 
bridge  and  it  was  easier  rowing,  because  the  tide 
was  on  the  turn. 

Now  maybe  if  you  fellows  that  read  this  don't 
live  in  the  country  where  there's  a  river,  you  won't 
understand  about  tides  and  bridges  and  all  that. 
So  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,  because,  gee,  we're  used 
to  all  that,  us  fellows. 

Jimmy  Van  Dorian,  he  lives  right  near  the 
bridge  in  a  little  shanty  and  he's  lame  and  he's  a 
bridge  tender.  You  don't  get  much  for  being  a 
bridge  tender  and  mostly  old  veterans  are  bridge 
tenders.  Anyway,  they  don't  get  much  out  out 


JOLLYING  PEE-WEE  i9r 

way,  because  big  boats  don't  come  up  and  they 
don't  have  to  open  the  bridge  often. 

When  we  got  down  to  the  bridge  we  saw  that 
the  tide  was  right  up  so  we  even  had  to  duck  our 
heads  to  get  under,  and  right  on  the  other  side  of 
the  bridge  was  a  tugboat  standing  facing  upstream 
and  its  whistle  was  screeching  and  screeching  just 
like  a  dog  stands  and  barks  when  he's  mad.  It 
seemed  awful  funny  because  it  was  a  small  tug  and 
it  made  so  much  noise. 

"It  ought  to  be  named  the  Pee-wee,"  Westy  said. 

"Nobody's  paying  much  attention  to  it,"  I  told 
him. 

Just  as  we  came  under  the  bridge  we  could  see 
a  big  fat  man,  oh,  Christopher,  wasn't  he  fat, 
standing  up  in  the  pilot  house  pulling  and  pulling 
the  whistle  rope,  for  the  bridge  to  open.  Some 
times  he'd  pull  it  very  fast,  just  like  you  do  with 
the  receiver  on  the  telephone  when  you're  good 
and  mad  because  Central  don't  answer.  And  it 
was  pretty  near  as  bad  as  the  telephone,  too,  be 
cause  he  went  on  tooting  and  tooting  and  tooting 
and  nobody  paid  any  attention  to  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

[JIMMY,  THE  BRIDGE-TENDER 

PRETTY  soon  the  big  fat  man  stuck  his  head  out 
of  the  window  and  he  shouted,  "What's  the  mat 
ter,  is  everybody  deaf  around  here?  Here,  you 
boys,  where's  the  bridgeman?"  Honest,  you'd 
think  I  had  the  bridgeman  in  my  pocket.  I  told 
him  I  didn't  know  where  the  bridgeman  was.  Oh, 
but  he  looked  mad.  He  had  an  awful  red  face 
and  white  whiskers  and  I  guess  he  must  have  been 
used  to  ordering  people  around — anyway,  he 
looked  that  way. 

He  said,  "Here  I  am  on  the  down  tide,  the 
water  going  out  every  minute  and  got  to  run  up 
to  North  Bridgeboro  yet.  It's  a — "  he  said  what 
kind  of  an  outrage  it  was,  but  I  wouldn't  tell 
you.  Oh,  he  was  hopping  mad.  "I'll  get  stuck 
hard  and  fast  in  the  consarned  mud,"  he  said, 
"if  I  ain't  back  and  past  this  here  Sleepy  Hollow, 
in  forty  minutes — that's  what  I  will  I" 

I  hollered  up  to  him  that  I'd  row  across  to 
Jimmy's  house  and  see  if  he  was  asleep. 

192 


JIMMY,  THE  BRIDGE-TENDER   193 

"A sleep!"  that's  just  the  way  he  shouted.  "Do 
bridgeman  sleep  on  full  tide  up  this  way?  Don't 
he  know  the  harbor  and  waterway  laws?  I'll 
make  it  hot  for  'im — I  will."  And  then  he  began 
pulling  the  whistle  faster  and  faster. 

"Somebody  must  have  been  feeding  him  meat," 
Westy  whispered  to  me. 

"He's  good  and  mad,  that's  sure,"  I  said. 

Even  while  we  rowed  across  to  Jimmy's  shanty 
I  could  hear  him  shouting  between  the  whistlings 
and  saying  he'd  have  the  bridgeman  up  for  desert 
ing  on  flood  tide  and  putting  him  in  the  mud.  And 
jiminy,  I  have  to  admit  that  he  was  up  against  it, 
because  the  tide  was  running  down  and  by  the  time 
he  got  up  to  North  Bridgeboro  and  back,  it  would 
maybe  be  too  low  in  the  channel.  One  thing, 
Jimmy  had  a  right  to  be  there,  especially  at  flood 
tide,  I  knew  that.  But  I  guess  the  reason  he  wasn't 
was  because  nothing  but  little  motor  boats  ever 
came  up  our  river  and  they  can  always  crawl 
under. 

Jimmy  lives  all  by  himself  on  account  of  being 
old  and  his  people  are  all  dead.  I  said  to  Westy 
that  maybe  he  was  just  asleep,  so  we  knocked  and 
knocked,  but  nobody  came  to  the  door.  Then  I 


:i94  ROY  BLAKELEY 

knew  he  wasn't  there  at  all  or  else  maybe  he  was 
dead. 

"Anyway,  we'd  better  find  out,"  I  said,  "be 
cause  it's  mighty  funny  him  not  being  there,  seeing 
that  he  never  goes  ^way  anywhere." 

All  the  time  we  could  hear  that  old  grouch 
shouting  about  Bridgeboro  and  our  river  and  say 
ing  it  was  Sleepy  Hollow  and  Dopeville,  and 
the  river  was  a  mud  hole.  But  it  isn't  and  don't 
you  believe  it. 

"Anyway,  I'm  going  to  climb  in  through  the 
shed  window,"  I  said,  "and  see  if  maybe  Jimmy 
is  sick  or  dead."  I  could  see  that  Pee-wee  was — 
not  exactly  scared  but  sort  of  anxious,  and  I  was 
too,  I  have  to  admit  it. 

Westy  and  I  got  the  shed  window  open,  all 
right,  because  Jimmy  wasn't  careful  about  it,  on 
account  of  not  having  anything  worth  stealing,  J 
suppose.  I  was  kind  of  shaky  when  we  went  into 
the  first  room,  because  that  was  where  he  slept 
and  I  thought  maybe  he'd  be  lying  there  dead. 
But  he  wasn't  there  at  all.  Just  the  same  we  stood 
there  looking  at  each  other,  and  we  were  both 
kind  of  nervous,  because  Jimmy's  clothes  were  ly 
ing  all  around  on  the  bed  and  on  the  floor,  and  a 
chair  was  knocked  over,  and  it  looked  just  as  if 


(JIMMY,  THE  BRIDGE-TENDER 

somebody  had  been  rummaging  in  the  room  in  a 
big  hurry.  The  door  into  the  other  room  was 
closed  and,  I  have  to  admit,  I  didn't  feel  like 
opening  it. 

"I  bet  somebody's  robbed  him  and  killed  him," 
Westy  said,  kind  of  low. 

"That's  just  what  I'm  thinking,"  I  said,  "and 
when  we  open  that  door  we'll  see  him  lying  on 
the  floor  dead,  hey?" 

"Anyway,  we  have  to  open  it,"  he  said. 

"I'll  open  it  if  you  don't  want  to,"  I  told  him. 

But,  anyway,  neither  of  us  opened  it.  We  just 
stood  there  and  I  felt  awful  funny.  It  was  all  still 
and  spooky  and  I  could  hear  the  clock  ticking,  and 
I  counted  the  ticks.  It  sounded  spooky,  going  tick, 
tick,  tick. 

Then  Westy  said,  "Shall  I  open  it?" 

"Sure,"  I  said,  "we've  got  to  sometime." 

So  he  opened  it  just  a  little  bit  and  then,  all  oij 
a  sudden,  he  pushed  it  wide  open  and  we  looked 
into  that  other  room. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

GONE 

IN  the  middle  of  the  room  was  a  table  Jimmy  ak 
ways  ate  his  meals  at,  and  on  that  table  was  a  big 
square  piece  of  paper  and  there  was  a  big  envelop* 
on  the  floor.  But  there  wasn't  any  sign  of  Jimmy. 
Oh,  boy,  didn't  I  feel  good  on  account  of  that. 

Westy  read  the  paper  out  loud  and  it  was  tome- 
thing  about  a  convention  of  the  Grand  Army,  or 
something  like  that.  It  said  how  all  the  members 
of  some  post  or  other  were  asked  to  go  to  Saratoga 
on  account  of  that  big  convention  and  it  was  ad 
dressed  to  "Comrade  James  Van  Dorian."  Gee, 
I  felt  awful  sorry  for  him,  sort  of,  because  I  knew 
bow  it  was  with  him. 

"He  just  couldn't  help  it,"  Westy  said,  "he  got 
ready  in  a  hurry  and  went.  I  guess  he  took  all  the 
money  he  had  saved  up — poor  old  Jimmy." 

"He'll  lose  his  job,  that's  sure,"  I  said. 

Even  while  we  were  standing  there  I  could  kind 
of  see  him  getting  dressed  up  in  a  hurry  in  that 
old  blue  coat  he  had,  with  the  buttons  all  falling  off 

196 


GONE  197 

it,  and  starting  off  with  his  crutch.  Maybe  he  just 
got  his  pension  money,  hey  ? 

All  the  while  the  whistle  on  the  tug  was  blow 
ing  and  I  was  afraid  people  would  come  around 
and  maybe  they'd  all  be  on  the  side  of  the  tugboat 
man  and  be  mad  at  Uncle  Jimmy. 

Jiminy,  I  wasn't  mad  at  him,  anyway. 

And  I  could  hear  that  old  man  shouting  about 
all  the  things  he  was  going  to  do  and  about  the 
bridgeman  deserting  and  leaving  him  in  the  mud. 

"Hurry  up,"  Westy  said,  "let's  find  the  key-bar 
and  we'll  open  it  for  him;  we  can  do  it  all  right.'* 

So  we  looked  all  around  in  a  hurry,  but  we 
couldn't  find  it  anywhere.  The  key-bar  is  what 
you  open  the  bridge  with,  you  know.  It's  kind  of 
like  a  crow-bar  and  you  stick  it  in  a  certain  place 
and  walk  around  pushing  it.  It  isn't  so  hard  when 
you  get  started  on  account  of  the  bridge  being 
balanced  right  and  it's  geared  up,  too.  But  what's 
the  use  if  you  can't  find  the  key-bar? 

"It  must  be  somewheres  around,"  Westy  said, 
all  excited. 

Oh,  didn't  we  turn  things  inside  out  I  But 
it  wasn't  any  use — we  couldn't  find  it. 

"Don't  let's  bother,"  I  said,  "I've  got  an  idea; 
Come  ahead — quick !" 


1198  ROY  BLAKELEY 

I  didn't  even  stop  to  tell  him  what  I  was  thinkt 
ing  about,  but  I  hustled  back  into  the  boat,  with 
Pee-wee  after  us,  wanting  to  know  what  we  found 
inside. 

"A  couple  of  mysteries,"  I  panted  out. 

"How  many?"  he  wanted  to  know. 

"And  a  couple  of  ghosts  thrown  in,"  I  said, 
"Hurry  up." 

On  the  way  across  I  told  the  fellows  to  please 
let  me  talk  to  the  old  man,  because  I  had  some 
thing  particular  to  say  to  him.  I  was  panting  and 
rowing  so  hard,  that  I  couldn't  tell  the  fellows 
then.  Anyway,  I  guess  Pee-wee  had  that  house 
haunted  and  filled  with  German  spies  and  Uncle 
Jimmy  murdered  and  goodness  knows  what  all. 

We  pulled  up  right  alongside  the  tug-boat  and 
I  called  out  to  the  old  man  that  I  wanted  to  tell 
him  something  and  to  please  let  me  come  up.  I 
was  all  trembling,  but  anyway,  I  said  it  right  out 
and  I  didn't  wait  for  him  to  say  yes,  because  he 
was  too  busy  saying  other  things  to  say  it. 

Westy  and  Pee-wee  stayed  in  the  rowboat  and 
I  went  right  up  into  the  little  house  where  the  old 
man  was.  Oh,  boy,  wasn't  everything  polished 
all  nice  and  shiny !  Gee,  it  was  nice  up  in  there. 
The  wheel  looked  awfully  big  and  the  compass, 


ROY  DIVED  AFTER  THE  KEY-BAR 


Roy  fHakeley 


Page  203 


GONE  199 

you  could  just  see  your  face  in  it.  And  it  smelled 
kind  of  oily  and  nice  up  there.  Wouldn't  I  like  to 
live  in  a  place  like  that ! 

The  old  man  was  smoking  a  pipe  and  he  blew 
out  a  lot  of  smoke — it  was  kind  of  like  a  barrage. 
Then  he  said  very  stern  and  gruff, 

"Well,  sir?"  ' 

Oh,  boy,  wasn't  I  shaky !  But  I  started  right  in, 
and  when  you  once  get  started  it's  easy,  that's  one 
sure  thing. 

I  said,  "Maybe  you'll  only  be  more  mad  when 
I  tell  you  but  I  heard  you  say  something  about 
Uncle  Jimmy  deserting.  Twice  you  said  that.  And 
I  thought  maybe  you  might  be  a  veteran,  hey? 
Maybe  that's  a  crazy  thing  to  think,  hey?" 

All  he  said  was,  "Well,  sir,"  and  he  blew  a  lot 
of  tobacco  smoke  at  me  and  looked  at  me  with  a 
frown,  all  fierce,  but  I  wasn't  scared. 

"I  only  kind  of  deduced  that,"  I  said,  "and 
anyway  I've  got  to  admit  you've  got  reason  to  be 
mad." 

Even  still,  all  he  said  was,  "Well,  sir,"  and  he 
held  his  pipe  so  I  thought  maybe  he  was  going  to 
chuck  it  at  me — good  night! 

"Anyway,  if  you  were  a  soldier,  maybe  you'll 
understand,  that's  all.  Uncle  Jimmy,  that's  what 


200  ROY  BLAKELEY 

we  call  him,  he  went  away  to  the  Grand  Army 
Convention — that's  where  he  went.  I'm  not  say 
ing  he  had  a  right  to  go,  but  one  thing,  big  boats 
like  yours  never  come  up  this  way,  so  the  bridge 
doesn't  have  to  be  opened  very  often — sometimes 
not  all  summer.  It's  kind  of  just  bad  luck  for  him, 
that's  all.  But,  one  thing  sure,  I  know  how  it  is 
to  be  away  when  I  ought  not  to  be,  I  do.  And  I'm 
no  better  than  he  is,  that's  one  sure  thing.  I'm 
a  boy  scout,"  I  told  him,  "and  my  scoutmaster 
says  you  have  no  right  to  make  bargains  about 
things  that  are  wrong.  But  anyway,  maybe  you 
wouldn't  think  this  would  be  trying  to  make  a 
bargain  with  you  and  sticking  up  for  somebody 
that  did  wrong.  So  I  thought  I'd  ask  you  if  you'll 
please  promise  not  to  write  to  the  government 
people,  and  I'll  promise  you  to  open  the  bridge 
for  you  in  ten  minutes.  He's  lame,  Uncle  Jimmy 
is,  and  he  got  that  way  in  some  battle,  and  he  has 
to  use  a  crutch.  And  that's  the  reason  they  gave 
him  a  job.  I  see  your  tug  is  named  General 
U.  S.  Grant,  and  maybe  he  was  fighting  with 
General  Grant,  hey?  You  can't  tell. 

"We  can't  find  the  key-bar,  but  about  a  month 
ago,  the  old  key-bar  fell  in  the  river,  and  I  know 
where  it  is.  Maybe  you  think  I'm  crazy,  but  I'll 


GONE  201 

dive  and  get  it  for  you,  if  you'll  only  promise  not 
to  tell  on  Uncle  Jimmy,  because  he  couldn't  help 
going.  Maybe  you  don't  understand,  but  he  just 
couldn't.  I've  got  the  swimming  badge  and  that's 
for  diving  too.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  give  me 
some  rope,  so  I  can  take  one  end  of  it  down  and 
then  you  can  haul  it  up  and  the  key-bar  will  be 
tied  to  it.  You  can  be  dead  sure.  Because  what 
a  fellow  has  to  do,  he  can  do.  Only  you  have  to 
make  me  the  promise  first  'cause  that'll  help  me  to 
do  it." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 
THE  CAPTAIN'S  ORDERS 

MAYBE  it  wasn't  a  very  good  speech,  but  any 
way,  he  was  nicer  than  he  was  before  and  he  had 
an  awful  funny  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

Then  he  said,  "So  you  know  how  to  dive,  huh, 
sonny?  Can  you  keep  your  mouth  shut?" 

"Sure,  you  have  to  keep  your  mouth  shut  when 
you  dive,"  Pee-wee  yelled  up  from  the  rowboat, 
and  then  the  old  man  just  had  to  laugh. 

"I  mean  when  you're  on  land,  sonny,"  he  said. 

"Sure  I  can,"  I  told  him. 

"Well,  then,  he  said,  "if  any  of  you  scout  kids 
goes  about  sayin'  as  how  Uncle  Jimmy  went  away 
to  the  convention,  and  I  ever  meet  you  in  your  old 
skiff,  by  the  Big  Dipper  I'll  run  you  down  and  cut 
you  in  half,  that's  what  I'll  do!  Do  you  hear?" 
he  shouted.  "If  you  ever  run  afoul  o'  the  Gineral 
Grant  in  the  bay  or  anywheres  else,  by  thunder, 
I'm  Cap'n  Savage,  I  am,  and  onct  upon  a  time  I 
was  Major  Savage,  and  I  should  be  at  that  there 

202 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  ORDERS         203 

convention  myself,  instead  of  standing  here  blow 
ing  away  at  a  better  soldier  than  me!" 

"Don't  you  care,  we'll  forgive  you,"  Pee-wee 
shouted  up. 

"Keep  him  quiet,  will  you?"  I  called  down  to 
Westy. 

"Ask  me  something  easy,"  Westy  said. 

"And  so  you  think  you  can  dive,"  old  Captain 
Savage  said,  "or  is  that  just  boy  scout  talk?  Do  I 
stand  a  chance  of  getting  upstream  and  down  ag'in 
to-night,  or  not.  Where  do  you  say  that  key-bar 
is?" 

You  can  bet  I  knew  just  exactly  where  it  was. 
It  was  under  the  east  span  of  the  bridge  and  just 
underneath  about  the  fifth  or  sixth  plank  from  the 
centre.  I  knew  it  was  hard  bottom  down  there, 
too.  So  Captain  Savage  and  the  other  man  he 
had  gave  me  a  thin  rope  and  we  fastened  one  end 
on  the  deck.  I  tied  the  other  end  of  it  around  my 
waist  in  a  loose  French  sailor's  knot,  so  I  could 
pull  it  off  without  any  trouble  under  water. 

Then  I  dived.  I  had  to  come  up  a  couple  of 
times  without  it,  but  the  third  time  I  got  hold  of  it 
lying  on  the  rocks,  and  quick  as  a  iash  I  loosened 
the  rope  from  my  waist  and  tied  it  »nto  the  key- 
bar.  Then  I  came  up,  sputtering. 


204  ROY  BLAKELEY 

"Pull,"  I  sputtered,  "you've  got  it;  only  pull 
easy."  Then  I  scrambled  up  on  the  deck. 

Believe  me  in  less  than  a  minute  the  tug-man 
and  Westy  and  Pee-wee  were  on  the  bridge  and 
had  the  key-bar  fixed  in  its  socket.  Then  we 
started  to  push  and  around  she  went — slow  at  first, 
then  faster. 

Oh,  boy,  wasn't  I  glad  to  see  old  General 
Grant  march  through.  Just  as  I  was  going  to 
get  in  the  rowboat,  Captain  Savage  stuck  his  head 
out  of  the  window  and  shouted,  "Her-e  you, 
youngster;  you  come  in  here.  We  have  to  over 
haul  accounts." 

"Scouts  don't  accept  anything  for  a  service," 
iWesty  shouted. 

"I  ain't  a-talking  to  you,"  Captain  Savage 
shouted;  "you  other  feller,  scramble  aboard  and 
come  up  here !  Don't  they  learn  you  nothin'  about 
obedience  in  them  thar  scouts — huh?  You 
scramble  up  on  board  here  like  I  tell  you !" 

Oh,  boy,  I  knew  he  meant  me. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

I  MAKE  A  DANDY  FRIEND 

THAT  was  the  first  time  I  ever  rode  in  a  tug 
boat,  and  believe  me,  it  was  great.  I  stood  right 
beside  the  wheel  in  that  little  house  and  pointed 
out  the  channel  to  Captain  Savage  all  the  way  up 
to  North  Bridgeboro.  That's  one  thing  I  sure 
know — the  channel.  Anyway,  if  you  don't  know 
it,  follow  the  abrupt  shore.  But  with  a  tug-boat, 
good  night,  you  have  to  be  careful  because  a  tug 
draws  so  much  water.  He  was  going  up  there 
after  a  lumber  barge,  he  said. 

First,  he  didn't  say  anything,  only  smoked,  and 
it  was  like  a  fog  in  there.  Pretty  soon  he  said: 

"So  you  youngsters  don't  take  nuthin'  fer  serv 
ices,  huh?" 

"We  have  to  do  a  good  turn  if  we  see  a  chance,'* 
I  told  him. 

Then  he  wanted  to  know  all  about  the  scouts, 
how  they  were  divided  into  troops  and  patrols  and 
everything,  and  after  I  told  him  all  that,  we  got 
to  talking  about  our  vacation  and  about  Temple 

205 


206  ROY  BLAKELEY 

Camp,  and  especially  about  the  house-boat.  I 
asked  him  if  he  thought  a  three  horsepower  engine 
would  drive  the  house-boat  up  the  Hudson,  so  we 
could  get  as  far  as  Catskill  Landing  in  a  couple 
of  weeks. 

He  said,  "It  would  be  more  like  a  couple  of 
years,  I  reckon." 

"Good  night!"  I  said,  "if  it  takes  us  two  years 
to  get  there  and  we  have  to  be  home  inside  of  a 
month,  I  see  our  finish.  I  suppose  it  costs  a  lot 
of  money  to  get  towed." 

He  said,  "Wall  now,  whin  I  bring  in  a  Cunarder 
.and  back  her  into  her  stall,  it  stands  them  in  a 
few  pennies." 

"You  said  something,"  I  told  him. 

*  'N  I  don't  suppose  your  troop  has  got  as  much 
money  as  the  Cunard  Line,"  he  said. 

"Gee,  we've  only  got  about  four  dollars  now," 
I  told  him;  "I  suppose  we  couldn't  get  towed  as 
much  as  a  mile  for  that,  hey?" 

"Wall,  four  dollars  don't  go  as  far  as  it  used 
ter,"  he  said;  "maybe  it  would  go  a  half  a  mile." 

Then  he  didn't  say  anything,  only  puffed  and 
puffed  and  puffed  on  his  pipe,  and  kept  looking 
straight  ahead  of  him,  and  turning  the  wheel  ever 
so  little.  After  a  while  he  said  there  wasn't  water 


I  MAKE  A  DANDY  FRIEND       207 

enough  in  our  river  to  drown  a  gold  fish,  and  he 
didn't  know  why  we  called  it  a  river  at  all.  He 
said  he  couldn't  imagine  what  the  tide  was  think 
ing  about  to  waste  its  time  coming  up  such  a 
river.  He  said  if  a  bird  took  a  drink  in  the  river 
while  he  was  upstream,  it  would  leave  him  on  the 
flats.  He  was  awful  funny,  but  he  never  smiled. 

When  we  got  up  to  the  mill  at  North  Bridge- 
boro,  he  got  the  barge  and  started  downstream 
with  the  barge  alongside.  All  the  while  he  kept 
asking  me  about  the  scouts,  and  I  told  him  about 
Skinny,  and  how  we  were  going  to  take  him  up  to 
Temple  Camp  with  us,  so  he  could  get  better, 
maybe. 

Then  for  quite  a  while  he  didn't  say  anything, 
only  puffed  away  and  pretty  soon  we  could  see  the 
bridge  and  I  knew  we'd  have  to  open  it  again. 
But  anyway,  I  could  see  a  lot  of  fellows  there  and 
I  knew  they  were  all  from  our  troop  and  that  they 
were  waiting  to  open  the  bridge  for  General 
Grant. 

Pretty  soon  Captain  Savage  took  his  pipe  out  of 
his  mouth  and  began  speaking,  only  he  didn't 
notice  me  only  kept  looking  straight  ahead. 

".You  know  how  to  port  a  helm  ?"  he  said. 


2o8  ROY  BLAKELEY 

I  told  him  no — not  on  a  big  boat  like  that  any 
way. 

Then  he  said,  "Wall,  there's  lots  o'  things  you 
got  to  learn,  youngster.  And  there's  one  thing 
about  tug  cap'ns  that  you  got  to  learn,  see  ?" 

I  told  him  that  was  what  I  wanted  to  do — learn. 

"Wall,  then,  I'll  tell  you,"  he  said — this  is  just 
what  he  said — "I'll  tell  you,  you  are  in  a  mighty 
ticklish  place  'n  I  don't  just  see  how  you're  going 
to  get  out  of  it." 

For  a  minute  I  was  kind  of  scared. 

"I  ain't  sayin'  you're  not  a  brisk  lot,  you 
youngsters,  because  you  are,  and  no  denyin'.  All 
I'm  sayin'  is  you're  in  a  peck  of  trouble — that's 
all." 

Then  he  didn't  say  anything  only  looked  straight 
ahead  out  of  the  window  and  kept  on  smoking. 
Gee,  I  felt  awful  funny. 

Then  I  said  if  we  did  anything  that  wasn't  right, 
cracky,  we  didn't  mean  it  anyway,  that  was  sure, 
and  we'd  do  whatever  he  said.  And  I  said  I 
knew  it  wasn't  right  for  us  to  break  into  Uncle 
Jimmy's  shanty,  because  I  couldn't  think  of  any 
thing  else  we'd  done  that  was  wrong. 

Then  he  said,  "  'Tain't  so  much  wrong,  as  'tis 
a  conflict  of  rules,  as  the  feller  says.  Yer  see,  the 


I  MAKE  A  DANDY  FRIEND      209 

trouble  is  tug-boat  captains  are  a  pretty  pesky, 
ugly  lot,  as  yer  can  see  from  me,  and  when  it 
comes  ter  services,  it's  give  or  take.  Now  I  was 
thinkin',  that  if  you  youngsters  don't  let  me  tow 
you  up  as  far  as  Poughkeepsie  next  week,  I'll  just 
have  to  write  and  notify  the  authorities  about 
Uncle  Jimmy  and  make  a  complaint.  I  kinder 
don't  like  to  do  it  by  reason  of  him  being  an  old 
veteran,  but  it's  up  to  you  youngsters.  Either 
scratch  out  that  rule  of  yours,  or  else  see  Uncle 
Jimmy  lose  his  job.  Take  your  choice,  it's  all 
the  same  to  me." 

G-o-o-d  night!  Jiminy,  I  didn't  know  what  to 
say  to  him.  I  guess  I  just  stood  there  staring  and 
he  looked  straight  ahead  out  of  the  window  and 
smoked  his  pipe,  as  if  he  didn't  care  either  way. 

Pretty  soon  he  said,  "I'm  going  up  to  Pough 
keepsie  next  Saturday  with  a  barge,  and  I'll  give 
you  youngsters  till  Friday  to  decide.  You  can 
send  me  a  line  to  the  barge  office  or  the  Pilots* 
Association,  or  else  you  can  leave  me  and  old 
Uncle  Jimmy  fight  it  out  between  our  two  selves 
and  Uncle  Sam.*' 

The  fellows  opened  the  bridge  for  General 
Grant  to  go  through  and  Captain  Savage  let  me 
out  on  one  of  the  cross-beams,  without  even  stoj> 


210  ROY  BLAKELEY 

ping.  He  didn't  even  look  at  the  fellows  as  the 
tug  went  through,  only  looked  straight  ahead  of 
him  and  puffed  away  on  his  pipe,  as  if  he  didn't 
even  know  that  there  were  such  things  as  scouts, 
We  just  stood  there  watching  the  tug  churning  up 
the  water,  as  she  went  faster  and  faster  until  she 
was  gone  around  the  bend. 

"He's  a  kind  of  an  old  grouch,"  Pee-wee  said. 

"It's  good  you  happened  to  think  about  how 
he  used  that  word  desert"  Doc  said. 

Then  Connie  said  he  wouldn't  want  to  be  his 
son  and  Artie  said  he  wouldn't  want  to  be  around 
the  house  with  him  on  a  rainy  Sunday,  and  I  let 
them  go  on  knocking  him,  until  they  got  good  and 
tired  and  then  I  said, 

"Do  you  know  what  he  wants  to  do  ?" 

"I  bet  he  wants  us  to  go  and  be  witnesses  against 
Uncle  Jimmy,"  Pee-wee  said;  "he'll  never  get  me 
to  be  a  witness,  you  can  bet." 

"Wrong  the  first  time,  as  usual,"  I  said;  "he 
wants  to  tow  the  house-boat  up  as  far  as  Pough- 
keepsie  for  us  next  week." 

Well,  you  should  have  seen  those  fellows. 

"What  did  you  tell  him?"  Pee-wee  yelled. 

"I  told  him  that  I  was  sorry,  but  that  scoutg 


I  MAKE  A  DANDY  FRIEND      211 

couldn't  accept  anything  for  a  service — not  even 
favors." 

"You're  crazy!"  Pee-wee  shouted;  "did  you  teli 
him  that?" 

"Sure  I  did,"  I  said,  very  sober,  "and  he  got  so 
mad  he's  going  to  have  old  Uncle  Jimmy  sent  to 
jail — just  because  I  told  him  we  couldn't  let  him 
tow  us  to  Poughkeepsie." 

"You  make  me  tired!"  Pee-wee  screamed,  "do 
you  mean  to  say  that  if  a  fellow  does  a  good  turn 
to  another — an  old  man — and  it  turns  out  to  be 
a  good  turn  on  somebody  else,  and  he  says — the 
other  one  that  has  a  boat — that  he'll  make  a  lot 
of  trouble  for  the  other  one  we  did  a  service  for 
— do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  other  one  has 
a  right  to  say  he'll  make  trouble  for  him,  and  if 
he  does  we  haven't  got  a  right  to  let  him  do  a 
good  turn  to  us,  so  that  the  other  one  we  did  a 
good  turn  for  can  get  under  a  bridge — it's  a  good 
turn  to  let  him  do  us  a  good  turn,  isn't  it?  Let's 
hear  you  deny  that?" 

"You're  talking  in  chunks,"  Doc  said;  "pick  up 
the  words  you  spilled  and  straighten  'em  out." 

"Hold  him  or  he'll  fall  off  the  bridge,"  Artie 
said. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  we  haven't  got  to 


212  ROY  BLAKELEY 

let  him  pay  us  back  so  as  to  save  Uncle  Jimmy?" 
JPee-wee  fairly  screeched.  Oh,  boy,  you  should 
have  seen  him. 

"There  is  yet  time,"  I  said,  just  like  an  actor, 
sort  of.  I  said,  "There  is  yet  time  to  fool  him — 
I  mean  foil  him.  We  have  till  Friday  to  accept 
his  offer." 

"Who's  got  a  pencil?"  Pee-wee  shouted. 

Good  night !    You  should  have  seen  that  kid. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

SO   LONG SEE   YOU   LATER 

So  that's  about  all  I  can  tell  you  now,  but  pretty 
soon  I'll  tell  you  about  our  cruise  up  the  Hudson 
and  all  about  the  fun  we  had  on  the  house-boat 
and  on  Captain  Savage's  tug.  Oh,  boy,  he  turned 
out  to  be  one  fine  man.  And  I'm  going  to  tell  you 
all  about  Skinny  too,  and  about  the  fix  we  got  into 
about  that  tramp  that  slept  in  the  house-boat.  You 
remember  that  fellow,  don't  you.  Some  scare  we 
had,  believe  me. 

And  you'll  hear  about  Temple  Camp  and  Jeb 
Rushmore,  and  you'll  get  to  know  us  fellows  a  lot 
better.  Gee,  I  hope  you'll  like  us.  Mr.  Ellsworth 
says  I'm  a  pretty  good  author,  only  I  took  such 
a  long  run  there  wasn't  any  space  left  to  jump  in. 
I  should  worry.  Some  authors  don't  run  at  all,  they 
only  walk.  Believe  me,  you  have  to  drag  some  of 
them  with  a  rope. 

Anyway,  we've  got  acquainted  now  and  that's 
something.  In  the  next  story  there's  going  to  be 

213 


ROY  BLAKELEY 

some  girls — and  some  snakes,  too.  Especially  one 
snake.  Gee,  but  girls  hate  snakes — snakes  and 
mice.  Anyway,  Mr.  Ellsworth  told  me  to  write 
just  the  same  as  I  talked,  so  if  it's  no  good,  may 
be  that's  the  reason.  You  should  worry.  Maybe 
you'll  like  the  next  one  better,  hey? 

Anyway,  you'll  like  Temple  Camp,  that's  one 
sure  thing. 


..  "  "iii  mil  mil  iijjj  j||i 


